Back in the Saddle
by Beth Pryor
Summary: Matt doesn't listen to Foggy. Foggy's advice was sound. Matt pays dearly. Don't it always seem to go… Potentially canon for some time in Netflix season two or beyond, set shortly after Elektra's inevitable demise.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Back in the Saddle

 **Author:** Beth Pryor

 **Rating:** T

 **Universe/Timing:** Potentially canon for some time in Netflix season two or beyond, set shortly after Elektra's inevitable demise.

 **Summary:** Matt doesn't listen to Foggy. Foggy's advice was sage. Matt pays dearly. Don't it always seem to go…

 **Disclaimer:** Oh, another thing I desperately wish I were a part of but am not. I think I'm in the wrong line of work.

* * *

Chapter 1

Foggy managed to suspend Matt's nighttime extracurriculars for three days following the memorial service. After that, Matt wouldn't be pacified by any of the regular arguments.

"It's too dangerous."

"I'll be fine."

"You're not fine."

"I didn't say that I was, but I'll be fine out there."

"Matt." Foggy paused, trying a new angle. "You're distracted."

"I'm focused."

"On revenge?" The silence that followed sounded a lot like an admission to Foggy. "That's not ever who you've been, what this has ever been about."

Matt stood. "So maybe it's about a little bit more right now."

Foggy took a different approach, one he'd sort of used before. "We can do this the other way, the right way."

"I won't kill him," Matt promised.

"I'm not as worried about that as I am that he'll kill you. And what makes you think he's hanging around waiting for you to come find him? Word on the street is that he's long gone by now." Foggy hoped Matt wouldn't ask how he knew this.

Instead, Matt shrugged before taking a couple of steps toward the bedroom. "Then I have to get back to my regular work."

Foggy raised to his full height, dropping his hands anemically to his side. "Let Tony Stark save the world. It's some kind of sick hobby to him. He actually enjoys it!"

Matt didn't turn back around but answered still. "Tony Stark's energies are focused elsewhere. He's got 'bigger fish to fry.'"

"You mean he isn't risking his life to combat muggings and break-ins? What a novel idea!"

Matt sighed, turning toward his best friend. "Foggy."

Foggy lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender he now knew Matt could sense. "I'm just saying maybe take a couple of weeks off and see if it really makes a difference."

Matt turned away. "I make a difference." Foggy knew he really needed to believe that he did.

"I'm not saying that you don't, but maybe let the others handle the big guns right now, and let the police, you know, police?"

Matt continued moving toward the trunk in the closet as Foggy spoke. "I'm going out tonight."

"Jesus, Matt." Foggy knew there would be no stopping Daredevil, but he couldn't stop this plea to whatever part was still his friend Matt. "Can I at least stay here in case you need something when you get back?"

Matt shrugged the armor-enforced suit over his shoulders. "Do whatever you want." He clearly planned to do the same.

* * *

Six hours later, as predicted, Matt collapsed, half dead and wholly bleeding, on the roof. Foggy didn't have time to pull out the "I told you so" before he extracted the burner phone from the suit's hidden pocket and punched Claire's button. She answered on the third ring.

"Matt?"

"No. It's Foggy."

"Shit. How bad?"

"Not quite as bad as the ninja thing, I don't think, but he's unconscious. And bleeding on the roof."

"I'm at my sister's in Virginia."

"What do I do?"

"I'll send someone." She heard him open his mouth to protest. "She'll be discrete. I promise. Grab the bag under the kitchen sink. It should have everything you'll need. And get him inside if you can. It's too cold. He'll go into shock."

"I know."

"Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't have stopped him tonight. He was going to have to go back out there, even though we both know he wasn't ready." She knew the other man would have tried his damnedest.

"Yeah."

"I'm texting my friend now. She'll be there in 20 minutes. Maybe get him out of the suit, too?"

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks, Claire."

"He'll be okay, Foggy."

"Yeah." He hung up and turned toward the heap that was his best friend. "Matt?" The other man stirred, but just barely. Foggy closed his eyes and swore again, under his breath this time. He grabbed Matt beneath his arms and began to pull him across the roof.

"Foggy?" Matt roused truly this time, pain seeping from that one word.

"You're on the roof. We have to get inside. Can you stand if I help you?"

Matt swallowed hard. "My leg's broken. But yeah."

"Okay." He reached again under the muscular man's arms. "I got you." Together they half hopped, half scooted across the roof and down the ladder into Matt's loft. Foggy eyed the couch, which represented the halfway point between the bedroom and where they currently stood. They inched across the floor, a puddle of sweat and blood trailing behind them. Matt collapsed against the soft leather of the couch (they'd finally convinced him that it was easier to clean, and he _was_ getting used to the smell) as Foggy retreated into the bedroom. He reappeared in a moment with soft sweats in his hands.

Matt pushed up on his elbows, the mask askew on his face, his unfocused right eye visible and roaming. "What's that?"

Foggy knew by now that in this aftermath period Matt's senses would be completely haywire. Or even more haywire than usual. Matt had told him once that this was the blindest he ever felt, when the pain muddled his perception of the world to the point of utter gibberish and confusion, even dimming the 'world on fire.' "You need to change."

"I thought we've already discussed this tonight…" Matt breathed with the whisper of a grin.

"Your clothes," Foggy exasperated, not in the mood for this stab at humor. "Claire is out of town. She's sending a friend."

Matt moved off the couch with quickness Foggy didn't expect would still be possible tonight. The remainder of the color drained from his half-masked face when the injured left leg hit the floor with a millisecond of full weight transferred onto it. He crumpled toward the floor, with Foggy grabbing him just in time to avoid a second head injury courtesy of the edge of the coffee table.

"Matt! Stop it."

"No one else!" the injured man hissed through teeth clenched against the next wave of pain, as he briefly relived Claire's run-in with the Russians.

"She's already on her way. You need help. You know I can't do this alone. Let me get you out of the suit at least." Foggy hoisted him back onto the couch. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig, too. Are you stabbed somewhere again?"

"Left side," grunted Matt.

"Well. That must be a nice vacation for your right," mused Foggy as he unclasped the suits hidden fasteners and peeled it carefully off of Matt's upper body. The aforementioned wound bled freely. He left Matt's side long enough to retrieve the first aid kid from beneath the sink and liberate a pack of 4x4s from its depths. "Here. Hold pressure on that."

Matt obeyed, steeling himself for the removal of his trousers across the injured left leg. The fracture wasn't compound, but there were multiple breaks in the fibula and one through-and-through in the tibia in the area of the medial malleolus. And it fucking hurt without Foggy jerking on it. Matt held his breath until the moment of maximum impact, choosing then to try to breathe through the pain as best he could. Foggy counted to three and pulled. A whooshing roar encroached on Matt's supersonic hearing as the lightheaded feeling of pre-syncope washed over him, followed immediately by nausea and rising bile.

Somehow, Foggy noticed the greenish tint of his friend's face, even as the apartment was lit only by the cherry blossoms on the billboard outside and pushed an emesis basin into his hands just before Matt relinquished the contents of his stomach. The bleeding that had previously slowed on the left side started up again with renewed vigor following the retching. Foggy dug back into the bag for something else, anything else, when the knock sounded on the front door.

Matt groaned, managing half syllables of explicatives as Foggy left him unattended for the brief moment it took to retrieve the new nurse. Or whatever she was.

"Hey," he dispensed with the pleasantries as he pulled her through the doorway, shutting the hallway out behind them. "He's in here."

"Can we get some more light?" the woman asked, immediately surveying the situation.

"Shit. Right." Foggy ransacked the place for the lamps Claire had insisted upon, illuminating the three he could find with their beams focused on Matt as their visitor approached the couch where he had collapsed back again, eyes closed, breathing fast and shallow.

"So, how much can you tell me about what's going on here?" she asked as she continued to size up the situation.

"How much did Claire tell you?" Foggy felt they needed to establish that before he spoke out of turn.

"Enough." Matt emitted a squeaky grunt from the couch. The woman turned her attention toward him. "She said that you had a death wish, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I should thwart your best efforts to accomplish that goal." She shed her parka, retrieving a few pairs of blue nitrile gloves from a pocket before tossing it across the room. She knelt beside the couch to examine Matt, taking extreme care not to jostle him unnecessarily.

Foggy continued to dig in the kit, pulling out more gauze and a suture kit. "He says his leg is broken. We've never, um, set bones before."

"It's displaced," Matt revealed as the woman began to examine him.

"That won't kill you." She pulled his hands away from the stab wound as she surveyed his work of breathing, heart rate and skin temperature and pallor. "This could, though." She prepared Vaseline gauze to prevent air from entering the pleural cavity and covered the area. "Don't pull that off. If it bleeds through, add on top," she directed Foggy who nodded sagely, as though he understood the physiology of a sucking chest wound. Her fingers started at the top of Matt's head and moved systematically from body part to body part. She addressed Matt this time. "Claire says you have x-ray fingers or whatever. Other than the leg and the puncture wound on the side, anything else serious?"

"No. The knife nicked a rib, but there's no internal bleeding. There are no other breaks. No retained foreign material."

She nodded. Matt didn't know if she knew that he could sense that, even in his weakened state. "I'm gonna look at your leg now," she prepared him. "I'll be as careful as I can, but it's going to hurt." Matt grunted again. "I have something if you want, but Claire said you'd refuse."

"Just do it," he managed through the vice-like tightness of his jaw.

She nodded again as she began to carefully palpate the obviously deformed ankle and foot which were already swollen and bruised. "I can't fix this," she revealed after a few seconds of examination. "You're going to need a surgeon."

"No," Matt managed, hot salty tears now rolling down his face, mingling with blood and saliva.

"Matt!" Foggy placed a hand on the other man's arm.

"No hospitals. Too many questions."

The new nurse persisted. "I know a guy. We'll fix you up good as new." She reached into the back pocket of her scrub pants for her phone. Matt's right hand shot forward to knock it away. She twisted out of his reach. "If you don't stop that, I'll drug you."

The pain elicited by that set of movements forced his words out in little panting spurts. "You can't do that."

"Hide and watch," she countered. "You wanna stay in your current line of work?" She nodded toward his foot. "You're gonna need my guy to ORIF you."

"Or if?" Foggy inquired, as Matt was too busy pouting to ask questions.

"Open reduction internal fixation. That's surgery – with no weight bearing for at least six weeks afterward."

"Jesus!" Foggy scrubbed his hand across his face. He didn't know how they'd manage that, how he'd keep Matt on the sidelines that long.

What pale hue of pink that had previously returned to Matt's face drained away. He'd never been as careless as he had tonight. He knew he should have listened to Foggy, but they were well past that now. He'd have to face the music. "Okay," he whispered.

The woman patted his arm again before she stood. "Good. Let me make some calls."

"Discretion," Foggy interjected as he raised up beside her, "Is really important."

She placed a steadying hand on his arm. "I know. We'll take care of everything. I promise."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for your interest in this, especially for the reviews. Good or bad, they help motivate me and move things along. I truly hope you enjoy; I know I'm enjoying reading the great work in this fandom!

* * *

Chapter 2

The beeping roused him from fitful but dreamless sleep. Or maybe it was the sweet ocean filling his mouth, or the sandpaper of the industrially cleaned gown and sheets scraping across his skin if he moved a millimeter in any direction. God, that was worse than the pain in his leg. Except there really wasn't pain in his leg. Oh God. They'd cut off his leg. He struggled to sit. Iron-like hands stopped him and pushed him back against the concrete of the pillow beneath his head. He blinked, startled and disoriented but decidedly more clear-headed than he expected to be following surgery.

"Hold still." He knew the voice but didn't know it.

"Where am I?" he croaked through the salt desiccating his oral mucosa and thickening his tongue.

"Recovery."

The new nurse Claire sent. Right. "My leg doesn't hurt."

"Nerve block. You'll thank me later."

He needed more information. "I don't feel drugged."

"I just used some Propofol during the case and then the block. It will last for a few more hours, and then we can discuss what you want to do about the pain after that."

He inched up on his elbows. "You're staying?"

"No. You're going." He blinked again against the fire that was now encroaching at the periphery and then filling out his vision. "The least amount of time you're here the fewer questions to answer later."

Matt listened now, taking stock of the room. Two heartbeats. They could talk openly. "Foggy can't do this alone. And he has to go to the office at some time. We have clients."

"I know. We'll get you home, and I'll stay for a while. At least until Claire gets back. Then we can work out a schedule until you've figured out the mobility part."

"What did you tell them here about me?" Wherever 'here' was. "About the questions we don't want to answer, I mean."

"That you are a friend of Claire's who doesn't have health insurance and couldn't afford an ambulance and ER and all that stuff."

"And they didn't give me a Medicaid application or call adult protective services? I mean, I am blind, and it looks like I got the shit beat out of me."

"You did get the shit beat out of you. And by the looks of things, it's not an unusual occurrence." She didn't wait for him to respond to that before she kept going. "I told them you had your own business and didn't qualify for assistance. Jim knows about discretion. How do you think he keeps a place like this running?"

"VIPs?" He wasn't sure what type of surgery they did here, but plastic probably paid well.

"VRPs." Matt expression remained blank so she clarified. "Very rich people who don't want everybody else knowing their business. Maybe even some of the same ones you've cut down to size." She paused, then mused. "Hm. You two may actually be sort of in business together."

He hadn't regained quickness of thought to consider those implications. He started with the basics. "I don't know your name."

"Do you want to?"

"If you want to tell me. I know Claire must have shared some things with you." She snorted a laugh. Matt felt his heart rate speed up before he heard the increased frequency of beeping from the monitor attached to him by sticky electrodes. His face flushed with warmth, unnerved that his own move had just become his tell. "Okay, so a lot of things."

"Sorry. But yeah. We're close, and she does tend to recount her conquests."

"Now you tell me," he muttered, as he heard himself being relegated to Claire's 'conquest.'

"I'm Elizabeth." She placed her left hand in his right and he squeezed in lieu of a real handshake.

"Matthew, or Matt, but you know that."

"I know more about Matt than the other guy."

Matt sank back onto the rock they called a pillow here. "Seems he's out of commission for a while."

She shrugged as she stopped the drip infusing into the IV taped to the back of his right hand, thus decreasing the saline flooding his taste buds. "Maybe that's a good thing." He started to protest, but she kept talking. "For you, I mean. Maybe it'll give you some time to think things over going forward."

He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping he'd successfully hidden the painful wince at the pulling of the stitches on his left flank with that movement. "I don't need to think things over."

"Clearly. As running around in the dark beating on God knows what has been such a positive life choice for you."

He changed the subject. "You were calmer than Claire was the first time."

She shrugged. She clearly wasn't worried about visual cues. She and Claire had definitely talked. About him. "I had more warning. I knew to some extent what to expect. You didn't just plop yourself into my dumpster."

"It was more than that." Something else niggled in his mind regarding their earlier conversation. "You did the anesthesia." A more descriptive verb escaped him.

She busied herself with removing IV and applying a dressing to the back of his hand. "Someone had to. It seemed like the fewer folks we had in on this, the better."

He nodded. "You're not a nurse."

"No." She stood to check the pulse in his left foot once she'd finished with the hand. "And I'm afraid you'll be missing Claire when you realize how much of a nurse I'm not."

"Are you an anesthesiologist?" He couldn't imagine an anesthesiologist wielding a bedpan.

"No. I'm ER doctor. I work with Claire in the Emergency Department."

"Who's Jim?"

"Do you really need to know?"

Matt shrugged. "I guess not."

Elizabeth sighed. "He's an orthopedic surgeon. And my former fiancé."

"Left it on good terms then, did ya?"

"Not particularly."

Matt measured his next words carefully, the mirth in this exchange suddenly dispensed with. "Well, thanks for calling him."

Elizabeth nodded. They really didn't need to go there tonight. Or this morning. Or whatever time it was now. "Foggy should be back soon. We're jacking a wheelchair, a walker and some crutches and getting the hell out of Dodge."

Matt leaned forward again. "I'm good." Fire burned through his left flank again, stealing his breath and thus his ability to breathe through that wave of pain. He fell backwards onto the bed.

Elizabeth shook her head again. "There are no meds on board. It's not gonna be pretty."

"I'll live," he grunted.

"Yeah, I've figured that out about you by now."

"Can I have some water?"

She reached for the pitcher and cup beside his bed. She deployed the straw and held it for him. He sucked down about half of the water. She pulled the cup away. "Little sips."

"I'm parched."

"It'll come back up. Anesthesia is notorious for nausea. And I didn't give you any Zofran before the IV came out."

He didn't want to puke again, so he conceded. "Okay."

Before he had a chance for a second sip, Foggy burst through the door. He glanced expectantly at Elizabeth, who directed him to a fully conscious Matt.

"Hey, buddy. You doing okay?" Foggy inquired as he took the seat beside the bed Elizabeth had vacated a few moments earlier.

"Yeah, Foggy. I'm fine. Listen, I'm sorry." Foggy tried to silence him with a series of arm movements and shushing, but Matt was undeterred. "I should have listened earlier."

"Next time, maybe?" Foggy hoped. "You ready to get out of here?"

"How are we going to get into my place?"

"There's a service elevator we can use. I talked to your landlord just now. You've got a key and everything."

"Oh."

"I have your clothes, too. I know you can't stand that gown for very long."

"Thanks."

Elizabeth headed toward the door. "I'll give you guys a minute."

Foggy helped Matt sit up with only minimal agony this time. Once the zippered hoodie was wrapped around him, Matt collapsed back on the bed again. Foggy wielded the pants without Matt's help, tugging them over the hips with a dramatic "oof." He looked up at his best friend, nearly passed out on the bed despite, or maybe because of, the wardrobe gymnastics.

"Thanks, Foggy," Matt murmured, his eyes blinking into sleep.

"Not yet, buddy. We have to get out of here. The blue bloods are on their way in for fat sucking or whatever. We gotta exit. Stage whichever is closer to your place. Right, maybe?" He pulled Matt back into a sitting position and carefully pivoted his legs off of the bed, glancing up to watch Matt's face as he did so.

Matt kept his eyes low, embarrassed almost. "It's all still numb. It's not hurting me, but I can't help you."

Foggy placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let me then, okay?" Matt paused for what felt like a week before he finally nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Foggy would take it. He moved close, and Matt wrapped his arms around Foggy's neck so the bigger man could move him into the waiting wheelchair. As he stood behind to grab the handles, Foggy leaned down against Matt's dark head as he placed the dark glasses in his friend's outstretched hand. "Let's get you home now."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They repeated the scene to get Matt in and then out of the cab. Thankfully, by the time they arrived in front of his building the morning rush had ended, and they slipped unnoticed through the back door and into the service elevator that Foggy called with the aforementioned key. The three of them rode in exhausted silence to the top floor. They halted outside of Matt's place while Foggy jangled through his keyring, trying to find the correct one. He finally swung through door, maneuvering the chair down the narrow foyer granting them access to the loft.

Fatigue and the return of searing pain washed over Matt as they entered the bedroom. An agonizing moan escaped his lips as Foggy and Elizabeth transferred him from the chair to the bed. Matt collapsed back onto his sheets without opening his eyes. Elizabeth added a throw pillow for under the casted leg before they retreated into the living room without disturbing him any further. The more Matt slept right now, the better.

"I have to get to the office," Foggy realized as he finally glanced at his watch.

"I'll stay with him," Elizabeth confirmed.

"I have to at least talk to Karen and make some arrangements," he started.

"It's fine. Do what you need to do and then get some sleep."

Foggy couldn't promise all of that. "You need to sleep, too."

"I will. That couch has my name on it." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Foggy tugged his hands through his unwashed, disheveled hair. "And his blood, probably."

"I'll live."

"And so will he, thanks to you." Foggy balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Elizabeth moved forward, placing her hand on his arm. "And you. You did a great job stabilizing him, Foggy. It could have been a lot worse if he'd been here alone." She paused. "It would have been a lot worse."

Foggy ducked his head, not sure how to respond to that, how any of this should even be possible. "Karen's already called five times. I have to go."

Elizabeth nodded. "Go. He'll be okay."

"I know. I'll be back soon."

"Foggy. Seriously. We'll be okay."

"Yeah. I know that." He did. He really did, but Matt…needed to sleep. And Foggy really needed to check in with Karen before she showed up at the loft. "Bye," he mumbled as he stumbled back through the front door.

After he left, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the great room sizing up the place with its great lines, exposed beams and high ceilings with the wall of windows facing the billboard on the adjacent building. She found it all oddly appealing. She wandered into the kitchen to see if she'd be able to concoct some sort of nourishement for Matt when he woke. He'd have to eat eventually, so she busied herself with taking inventory of the sparse contents of the cabinets and fridge before she found her way to the couch.

* * *

"Foggy?" Matt called from the bedroom when he roused a little over an hour later, startling Elizabeth awake. She rose from her perch on the couch and headed in to check on him.

"He's not here. It's Elizabeth. Claire's friend?" she informed him as she approached the bed. She wasn't sure how much of their previous conversation would have been rendered useless from the Propofol, also known as 'milk of amnesia.'

"This is my bed." He started with what he knew, what he could touch.

"It is."

"My leg hurts." He sounded so small and vulnerable as he uttered those words.

She sat on the bed beside him. "I know. You broke it last night. A surgeon put a pin in it this morning. You've been home for a little over an hour."

Matt groaned. "Ah, fuck. I thought I'd dreamed that." He reached for his left side, finding a dressing there, as well. "That hurts, too."

"I know. I'm sorry." She stood. "Can I get you some water or something else? Ibuprofen, maybe?"

His face relaxed slightly, but then flushed a bright pink beneath the bruises and stubble. "I have to use the bathroom."

She glanced around. They could do the chair transfer thing, but it would take a minute. "Do you need the toilet, or is the urinal okay?"

He didn't take long to make up his mind against moving any more than he really had to. "I can use the urinal."

She pulled the plastic container from the bag she'd filled at the surgery center and handed it to him. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thanks."

He called for her a moment later, and she disposed of things, washing up in his bathroom before she returned to him. He had pushed himself into a sitting position with his back against the headboard, a pillow still under his injured foot.

"Are you comfortable there?" He didn't look very comfortable.

"I'm okay."

"You should sleep longer," she suggested.

He fidgeted against the sheets, twisting them in a white knuckled grip. "The numbing is wearing off."

"I can take the edge off, if you want."

"No." He panted. "I'll try some breathing exercises and mediation first. It might be okay."

"You had hardware drilled into your broken bones less than four hours ago. It might not be okay."

"I'll try it my way first." His mouth formed a hard line. She assumed he was fighting back more pain.

"That's fine. But my way is also available at any time."

"Why are you here?" It came out more annoyed than he'd intended.

"Foggy needed to go to the office, and Claire's out of town."

"Oh."

"Try to relax or whatever. I can make something to eat if you want."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I just don't think I can yet."

She reached forward and touched the frame of his glasses. "Do you want to take these off, at least?" The metal cutting into the bridge of his nose couldn't be comfortable.

He lifted his hand to cover hers. "I, um, I want to keep them on."

Her fingers slid from beneath his. "Sure. Whatever you need, Matt." She backed toward the door as he focused on his breathing.

"Elizabeth?" She stopped as he turned his face toward where she stood. "Thank you."

"Rest, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll try."

* * *

Foggy reappeared around two with replenishment for the first aid kit and a crap ton of pho. "He doesn't have a mom to make him chicken noodle soup or anything like that," Foggy explained as he poured the combination of broth, noodles and beef into three separate bowls. "We just have Mrs. Minh and her pho."

Elizabeth accepted her portion. "He's in a lot of pain."

"He won't take anything for it. I think that contributes to why he's usually such an impatient patient." Foggy shrugged. "But clearly I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

"He'll be up and around in a couple of days," Elizabeth offered.

Foggy's eyes narrowed. "What exactly did Claire tell you about him?"

"Everything she knows, I think. Including why they're no longer, um, involved." She let him digest that. "He'll be able to figure out some way to get around while using the cane without giving too much away about himself."

That was a concern, but a slightly bigger problem weighed more imminently on Foggy. "How soon before he can be back out there?"

"Three months? Maybe two if everything heals well."

That seemed like an eternity to Foggy. Matt would go crazy. "I don't know how he'll manage that, how we'll manage him."

"He'll need distractions, for sure. Because he'll still be able to hear everything that's happening out there, all the reasons he feels he needs to go."

Foggy turned toward her. "He can hear us now, you know?"

"Shoot. Right. That's kind of weird isn't it?"

Foggy shrugged. "It takes getting used to. I'm not sure that I'm there yet." He placed Matt's bowl on a tray. "I'll take this to him." Elizabeth sat to finish her lunch. "You should go when you're done, though. You're tired, and this is my problem."

"I think I've made it mine, too." She revealed. "I'll run home and grab some stuff, and then we can figure out what we're going to need to do. I'm sure he'll want a little alone time at some point, too."

"Yeah. I know," but Foggy wasn't willing to leave him alone just yet. "Maybe in a couple of days."

Matt sat motionless in the bed, his back against the headboard for support. He rustled around a little when Foggy entered. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

Matt sighed. "Not so great."

"You wanna try some of this?"

Matt's stomach growled, audible even to Foggy, who raised his eyebrows. Matt managed a weak grin, even though Foggy could see his face was streaked with pain. "I was going to say no, but I guess I could eat something."

Foggy handed over the tray. "It's still pretty hot."

"Okay." It was still a weird dynamic. Foggy had spent his whole life being normal, and Matt had spent the past twenty one years acting normal. Usually they just talked about normal things. It was easier to pretend that everything was normal, even though they both knew it wasn't.

Foggy sat on the edge of the bed. "Karen wants to take a shift after work. I didn't know how to tell her no."

Matt nodded. "It's okay." Karen had figured out mostly everything once the Greek blast from Matt's past arrived on the scene. She'd taken it about as well as Foggy had a few months earlier, but the chill was starting to thaw, especially when Matt gave her a reason to worry about him. He figured today would provide some serious inroads into their relationship. He took a sip of the salty, pungent soup. Cilantro flooded both his olfactory receptors and taste buds. There were worse things, he reckoned. "This is good, Foggy." He couldn't think of any better adjectives right now, either.

Foggy watched Matt slurp down three or four more spoonfuls before he lost steam. Foggy reached to move the tray out of Matt's way before he helped his injured friend scoot back into a mostly supine position.

"Do you want me to stay in here for a while?"

"You're about to drop, Fog."

"It's okay." He placed the tray on the floor before he crossed to the armchair and ottoman at the side of the room, which he assumed had been added for his benefit a few months ago, now that these vigils had become more commonplace.

"It's not okay. None of this is okay." Matt lamented. None of this had been a part of his plan, not that he really had a plan for any of this, but he certainly hadn't expected to involve Foggy and Karen and now Claire's friend. But here they all were.

Foggy dragged the chair a little closer to Matt's bed, but before he settled in, he reached over to tuck the buttery soft sheets around Matt's shoulders. "There isn't anything we can do about it now, though, Matt. I'm gonna try to sleep for a little while. Do you need anything right now?"

Matt shook his head. "No." He started to add "I'm fine," but he couldn't even try to convince himself, much less Foggy, that he was.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Once she made it to the street, Elizabeth braced herself against the front of the building, gulping in the fresh air. Claire had mentioned, in passing, as she was leaving for two weeks to help her sister with the new baby that Elizabeth might get a strange call in the middle of the night regarding a near-dead vigilante known in the papers as Daredevil. But most likely not. Probably not.

They had discussed him before, only she didn't realize that Mike was really Matt and he was blind but he wasn't. And he fought crime in the dark or something like that. But she understood why Claire had chosen to unburden this information on her, though, seeing as Steve Rogers proved to be a sticking point between Elizabeth and Jim. Or the straw that broke the camel's back and their engagement.

Elizabeth realized that she needed to go north about 27 blocks to get home from where she now stood. She thought about a cab but decided to clear her head a little on the walk. She fired off texts to Jim and Claire as she started on her way.

Jim's reply to her repeated thanks was typical. _At least this one isn't a superhero._ She laughed out loud. Their secret was safe so far. Claire, having way too much to text, called instead.

"Liz?"

"Hey."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think they'd need to call you."

"It's fine."

"Is he okay?"

"Not really. I had to call Jim to patch him up."

"Oh Jesus."

"Don't worry, we made him sound really pitiful. Jim is none the wiser."

"I'm sorry to get you messed up in this."

"It's not like I haven't asked for it before." Claire knew Liz's history, but they didn't need to re-hash that now. "How exactly does he do what he does?"

"I'm not sure, but his senses are really, um, sensitive?" Claire laughed. "I guess that's where that word comes from." She continued. "Especially smell. He can taste anything he can smell, but then there's the touch thing, too. And the sounds. It's like he can hear what you're thinking. God, just all of it is amazingly intense. But he really has to concentrate to go full-on, um, vigilante. Sometimes afterward, he's very blind. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but you'll see what I mean."

Liz wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with all of this information. "Okay?"

"Did you see the soap in his bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"Get some of that at the drugstore and shower with it. And get some unscented deodorant and detergent. All Free and Clear. He's okay with that one."

"God, Claire."

"It was a little more, um, involved than I let on earlier."

"Are you sure you want me there?"

Claire knew Liz's history, but her answer was final. "I can't be with him. He wants this life despite what it's doing to him and the people close to him."

"Is there someone close to him?"

Claire was silent for a minute. "You mean other than Foggy and the secretary, Karen?"

"Yes."

"There was."

"And?"

"She was killed last week."

"Oh my God, Claire!"

"I hoped Foggy could keep him in a little longer." Elizabeth's end of the phone was silent for a long time. "Lizzie, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know who else to call."

"It's okay Claire. His secret's safe with me, and I'll do what they need me to do."

"He's a lot sweeter than he gives off as a first impression, especially when he's hurt."

Elizabeth's head was swimming. "I have to go."

"Okay. Keep me posted?"

"I will."

The call terminated. Elizabeth continued moving north another three blocks before her second wind came to an unceremonious end, and she nearly tripped on a break in the sidewalk. She wasn't sure she had enough strength remaining to hail a cab. But when she did, she gave the address of a shop down the block from her apartment. She clearly needed to pick up some sensory deprivation essentials.

She dropped the bags on the floor as she stumbled through the door, catching a glance of herself and the dried blood smeared across her forehead and scrub top as she passed the mirror in the foyer. Why hadn't she noticed that earlier? She'd been to the bathroom at Matt's and at the surgery center. She stripped her clothes off and threw them into the washer, adding a capful of the new detergent. She searched around quickly for a few of her lounging staples to wash her scent off of them, too. While the clothes were percolating, she hopped into the shower and doused herself in the nothingness of his soap. Fifteen minutes later, she exited the shower and shot her dark bobbed hair with the hairdryer for a few minutes. She waited to switch the clothes to the dryer and collapsed in bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

When she woke, the sun had nearly set. She'd been out for hours. She sat up and checked her phone. One text from Foggy. Apparently he'd cut out the middle man by acquiring her number from Claire. She responded that she'd be back at Matt's within the hour. She hoped Foggy had managed to steal a little bit of rest himself, but from the few hours that she'd known him, she couldn't assume that he had.

When she arrived at Matt's building, she climbed the stairs with her pack of provisions. She didn't have a key, so she knocked. After a moment, a tall redhead in a pencil skirt and silk high-necked blouse pulled open the door. This had to be Karen.

"I'm Elizabeth," she revealed, not sure how prominently she would figure in the version of the story Karen had been told. "I'm guessing you're Karen." The woman stared back, even more skeptically after that remark, if that was even possible. Liz tried again. "Is Foggy still here?"

Karen stepped back to allow her to enter. "He just left, but he said you'd be coming to check on Matt." She followed Karen down the hall and into the living room. "Matt said you're a doctor," Karen offered, warming a little. Elizabeth nodded. Karen continued. "He's a little restless, wants to move around, maybe take a shower or at least wash off a little?"

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed, wheels turning in her head as to how they'd manage that. He was heavier than he looked.

"What about his leg. Or his side?"

"The cast is waterproof, but we shouldn't submerge his torso. Can he sit on the edge of the tub and we can spray him off or something?"

"I can hear you two scheming out there," Matt called from the bedroom. "I'd like to be a part of the planning if that's not too much trouble."

They headed into the bedroom where Karen spoke first. "Sorry, Matt."

"It's okay Karen." He bit his lip and took a deep breath, but he seemed considerably more relaxed than he had earlier in the day. "Hey, Elizabeth."

"Just call me Liz. I think we're about to get that close."

Matt blushed. "Maybe we should just wait for Foggy to get back."

"I sent him home for the night," revealed Karen. "If you want to do this, you're gonna do it with us."

Matt considered this for a moment and came to the conclusion that he needed a shower. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

Liz pointed to the wheelchair. "We'll need that." She headed into the bathroom to scope out the situation. The tub was big enough, and the shower head was convertible. When she returned to the bedroom, Matt was perched on the edge of the bed, his hoodie discarded beside him, and he was working on removing his pants. "You ready?"

"Almost." He kicked his sweats out of the way with his intact foot and sat before them in his boxers.

Karen glanced over at Liz. "Maybe I'll work on some laundry."

"Are you okay with me doing this?" Liz asked as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to pivot on his right foot.

"I guess I don't really have a choice."

"Don't you have a swimsuit or something?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm blind enough not to have to look you in the eye. And you're a doctor, right?"

She looked back to Karen, who was now busy stripping the bed, her face even redder than her hair. There would be no help there. Liz gave the chair a push toward the bathroom. "That I am."

By the time Matt had cleaned himself up, Karen had remade the bed and laid out some clean clothes. She knocked on the door to let Matt and Liz know she was headed out for the night.

"Thanks Karen!" Matt called through the door. "Make sure Foggy gets some sleep, okay?"

"I will, Matt. See you tomorrow."

Liz returned Matt to the bedroom where he finished dressing. Then he reached for her to help him move back onto the bed. He stopped for a second, inhaling deeply with his face beside hers. "You smell like my soap."

Liz blushed – not during the whole shower scene but when he realized she'd researched him. "Um, yeah. I talked to Claire this afternoon, and she said if I was going to be over here, it would be less unpleasant for you if I keep the fragrances at bay. Is that creepy?"

Matt heard the sudden increase in her heart rate and felt the rise in body temperature, as well as the heat radiating from her face. He recognized the same response in his own body. He had no idea that would embarrass her. She'd just seen him naked without so much as a change in breathing pattern, for goodness sake. Maybe he needed to get back to the gym. He knew he needed to put her at ease. "No, it's actually really thoughtful. Most people don't know enough about me to even know to do something like that." He felt himself relax a bit as he heard her heart rate slowing back to normal.

She exhaled as he sat back. "Do you need anything? Did Karen feed you?"

"Karen's got her hands full with Foggy, only she doesn't realize it yet."

"Oh," Liz answered. Then the lights came on. "Oh!" She slapped his arm playfully. "Really?"

Matt chuckled, more relief on his face than she'd seen in the 18 hours she'd known him. "Yeah. They smell like each other all the time now. I think it's been about six weeks. They were going to tell me, I think, but then…" he trailed off, a faraway look crossing his face. His eyes filled with moisture.

She hadn't planned to go here and therefore didn't expect this type of reaction. "Your girl?"

He wiped at his eyes, blinking fiercely. "Elektra. Yeah." He wiggled back on the bed. She felt a wall rising between them. "Are my glasses on the table?"

They were. "Yeah." She handed them to him, pretty sure they had lost whatever had just passed between them.

He ran his fingers around the frames for a good minute before he decided not to put them on. "Can we go into the other room? I've been in this bed all day."

Liz stood. "Sure." She pulled the chair back flush with the bed. "We probably should have decided this before the last move."

Matt nodded in agreement. "Probably, but I have no idea what sheets Karen put on here. These feel like they are going to scratch my skin right off of me."

"Perhaps you would like to wear a shirt?" Liz offered as her fingers wrapped around his bare torso.

He leaned into her as he shifted into the chair, a smirk climbing across his face as he sat back. "And what would be the point of that?"

"Protecting your skin against sandpaper sheets?" she asked as she threw the t-shirt into his lap. "Will that do?"

He slid the shirt over his head and smoothed it out before he leaned against the backrest. "That's perfect," he decided with a contented grin.

Liz moved behind him and pushed the chair forward. "How about some tea?" She'd seen the bags earlier in the day on her kitchen search.

"Yeah. That actually sounds great." She moved around him, but he reached forward and grabbed her hand. "I know you aren't sure about me or all of this, Liz, but thanks so much for everything."

"I'm happy to help."

"I can tell."

"Oh. Right." She squeezed his hand. "Let's get you settled on the couch, and then I'll work on that tea."

"Okay," Matt agreed. "That sounds like a plan."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was well after 9 am when she woke the next morning. In a bed in an apartment she didn't recognize. There was a scraping noise in the en suite bathroom. Whomever she'd gone home with obviously planned to get on with his day. Oh wait. Nope. That would be Matt. And Matt couldn't walk. Or see. Liz hopped out of his bed and skidded down the hall where she found him leaning forward in the seat of the wheelchair reaching for his toothbrush.

"Morning, Liz," he greeted her as he teetered precariously, his fingers inching forward.

She didn't have time for pleasantries. "You should have woken me."

"You seemed like you needed the sleep. And it's really all I did yesterday."

"What I mean is if you fall we'll be starting at square one. Or worse. And then I'd also have to explain it to Foggy."

Matt sighed in understanding. "I get that. I do. But I'm just not used to sitting still and having other people wait on me."

She plucked up his toothbrush and handed it to him after applying a little bit of the paste. "Here."

"Thanks," he accepted it and started to brush. "I'm gonna need to figure out how to get back in the office. I can't sit here for weeks, months."

She dropped her hands to his shoulders. "Give it a few days at least. Let your side heal up, and then you can start with the crutches."

He shook his head. "I was awake out there for more than half the night trying to figure out how I can use them and the cane at the same time." He set his toothbrush back on the sink. "I still don't know how it will work."

"Let's just give it a few days. We'll figure something out between the four of us. And Claire. She's super resourceful about stuff like that."

"It's not even like we have that many clients, but if I can at least do something maybe I'll feel a little less useless."

"We can get you to the office. We can definitely figure that out, but not today and not tomorrow, and probably not for the rest of the week."

"Liz," he whined. She didn't know he had it in him to whine.

"Why don't we just redirect our focus here?" she decided as she sat on the toilet lid across from him to achieve his eye level. If that even mattered.

"Okay." He'd give that a try. "What did you have in mind?"

She attempted to expedite her thinking. "Maybe a field trip? We have the elevator key."

"If we can go on a field trip, why can't I go to the office?" He'd moved from whining to pouting.

"There's no one there but Foggy and Karen, and they'll be here tonight. Pick another spot. It looks like a nice day."

"I don't know." He took a minute to consider this. "Can we at least make it to the roof?"

She'd seen the steps in his apartment, but there might be an alternate route. "Let me explore. Okay?"

He nodded, and Liz helped him back the wheelchair out of the bathroom. She headed back into the hallway and searched for the service entrance. Presumably they'd have to have a way to haul freight to the roof. She stepped into the elevator. There was another position for the key, marked R. They might be in business. She tried it out, shielding her eyes against the glare when the doors opened facing directly east into the morning sunlight. She turned the key in the other direction to return to Matt's floor.

He was waiting for her by the door. "Well?"

"Yeah, we can get there." His entire countenance brightened. "Can I have a minute first?"

"Oh, sure." He pushed himself out of her way. "Take your time." She washed her face and brushed her teeth before she rejoined Matt in the hall just a few moments later. "That was fast!"

"I know you're feeling cooped up in here." She pushed him forward toward the door and then the elevator. She inserted the key and brought their car, then inserted it again to give them access to the roof. The doors opened, and they exited. Matt moved directly into the sun.

"This is so great, Liz." His smile seemed genuine this time.

"Do you come up here a lot?"

"Yeah." He inhaled deeply. "This is my city. I have to look after it."

She pulled a milk crate around so she could sit beside him. "You grew up here?"

He nodded. "I was born about three blocks south of here. It's a Chipotle now, I think."

She shrugged. "There have been lots of changes around here in the past few years, I guess."

"Were you here? When it happened?" The Incident, The Battle of New York – whatever you wanted to call it, it had been horrifying.

"Yes. I was working in Washington Heights, though. It wasn't so much in my back yard like here."

"You went to Columbia?"

She nodded. "Just for residency, though. You did, too."

He nodded. "Undergrad and law school."

"Your shirt says Columbia Law." She touched the letters on his chest.

"Oh." He grinned sheepishly. "I usually don't pay any attention. Foggy's slipped in a couple of concert t-shirts, I think." He shrugged.

"Is that where you met him?"

"At a concert? No." She smacked his arm with quick laugh as Matt nodded. "Yeah. In undergrad. We were roommates. Just kind of stuck."

Liz chuckled with an exaggerated shake of her head. "And I have no idea where my freshman roommate is now, and I'm not about to look her up."

"Yeah. It doesn't usually end up like what we have. That's the one stroke of luck in my life." He stopped talking as a pained pallor crossed his face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It just hurts. And it caught me off guard. That doesn't usually happen." She wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but she reached her hand out to the bare part of his arm and began rubbing, almost absently. Surprisingly, the touch wasn't unpleasant. It actually felt nice, soothing somehow. He did not expect that. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm totally dominating this conversation. Where did you grow up, go to college, med school?" She turned toward him with a smile he could actually see as a cool breeze blew across her face, feathering her hair behind her. Matt reached out and smoothed a strand. She reached hers up to meet his hand. "Sorry. I don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," she stammered. "I'm from Chicago originally. I came east for college." She paused. "Yale. And then all the way west for Stanford Med."

Matt whistled. "Ah. So you're one of those," he quipped with a raised eyebrow.

"With lots of scholarships and even more loans? Yes."

He nodded. He was quite familiar with the financial aid counselor at Columbia. But she still didn't feel like one of them somehow. He digressed. "Claire lives near here. She found me in her dumpster."

Liz nodded. "I know that's where she found you. But we work a little north of here."

"And you live a little north of here."

She nodded. "A little less north than where I work. But no. I don't live or work in Hell's Kitchen."

He ignored that confession but pushed a bit further. "What happened with Jim?" Or a lot further.

"It's personal."

He shrugged. "You know a lot of personal stuff about me. You've seen a lot of personal stuff about me."

She couldn't really get around that fact. He might as well know the sordid truth. "I slept with Captain America."

Matt blinked a couple of times, and then he ran a hand through his hair. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Recently?"

"Recently enough, I guess."

"Did you know who he was?"

"I mean, he wasn't in the suit, but he looks like himself. So yeah. I knew exactly who he was and likely what I was doing."

"So was it like hero worship or something?"

"Why?" she scoffed. "Think you've improved your chance to get lucky here if it was?" She crossed her arms over her chest to go along with her newly-acquired scowl.

Matt coughed and sputtered, not sure how to answer that. "No. That's not what I meant, I just mean, why did you do it?"

"Why I sabotaged my relationship with a really great guy for one moment with some famous guy that I probably won't ever talk to or even see again?" Liz shrugged. "No idea."

"I know him," whispered Matt after they'd sat in silence for a good three or four minutes.

"You what?"

"I mean, not as Steve Rogers, but I know Captain America. And he knows Daredevil. Well, not about all of this, but I'm familiar with the Avengers."

"Okay." Pretty much everyone in the universe was by now.

Matt sighed. "What I meant is if you wanted to try to see if there's something there…"

"There's not." Rogers didn't love her, not even close. They'd both had a bad day at the same time and ended up at the same after party.

"Oh."

She kicked a rock beside her shoe. "It's silly. I don't know why I told you that."

"Because you've seen me where my bathing suit covers," he recapped, hoping to bring a smile to her face.

"If it helps, I didn't really look. I was just there to make sure you didn't fall on the floor or whatever," she vowed.

He leaned toward her, his hand finding her face again. "I didn't. Fall on the floor, I mean."

She closed her eyes. "I know. I was there." Matt reached forward and kissed her. His lips against hers felt soft and sweet and warmed her unlike any kiss she'd ever experienced.

He sat back in the chair. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."

"I told you I cheated on my fiancé with Captain America, who is possibly the most honorable man in the world so obviously that one's on me, and you kissed me. I'm not sure why you did that, either."

"I have a thing for women in healthcare?"

Liz laughed. "And apparently I have a thing for corrupting superheroes."

Matt's own grin slid from his face as he recalled Claire's reaction to who and what he'd decided to be. And there was Elektra. Or there had been. And she was barely gone. What was he even doing? "I shouldn't have done that."

"What? Oh. Okay." Liz pulled her hand back from his arm and stood. "I'll just give you a minute up here."

"No, Liz! Wait." He attempted to turn the chair with several fruitless movements as the brakes were still engaged.

She took a step toward him to stop whatever he was trying to do with the chair. "It's okay, Matt. Really."

"It's all my stuff. Not yours. Everything that happened with her, that was less than a week ago."

She reclaimed her seat on the milk crate to dig into this a little deeper. "And who was she to you exactly? Your girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?"

He shook his head. "None of those really, just a memory that didn't quite play out the way I'd recalled it."

"Then why the guilt?"

Matt managed a sad smile. "How much time do you have to talk about Catholic guilt?"

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They were hunched over the table with the chessboard between them when he entered the apartment, although none of the pieces was in its correct place on the board. Foggy wasn't sure if he should be thankful that they'd attempted to make things appear to be on the up and up or annoyed that they definitely weren't.

He plastered a smile on his face until he'd reached a final decision. "Hey guys. How's everything going?" Matt glanced up. His glasses were nowhere to be found. He still insisted upon wearing those things around Karen most of the time. Foggy shook his head with a little too much disgust for Matt to let slide.

"What?" Matt demanded.

"I didn't say anything," Foggy maintained.

"You gave me a look." He turned to Liz for confirmation. "Did he give me a look?"

She stood from her place at the table, her hand casually grazing Matt's as she moved around him. "Why don't I head to the market while you guys talk?" She grabbed Matt's sweatshirt from the couch with the list they'd made a bit earlier. The door closed behind her a few seconds later.

Foggy rubbed his eyes. "Oh my God, Matt. Must you sleep with every woman who comes in contact with you?"

"I never slept with Karen." It was the first thing that came to his mind for some reason.

Foggy threw his hands in the air. "Well, I guess that's something."

"Let's not do this." _Not now. Not ever._ Matt wanted to add.

"Did you forget what you were doing this time last week? What we all were doing this time last week?"

"No. I didn't, but maybe just for once I'm going to forgo the guilt and sadness and just do what I want to do."

"Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" huffed Matt.

"It means that you'll do what you always do. You'll have your fling with a beautiful girl, and then things will go sour, and you'll go all super-duper repentant Catholic with the sackcloth and ashes and whatever. And I had prepared myself for the Elektra fiasco, but I'm not ready for round two to come so soon."

"This isn't about you," Matt shot. "None of this is about you."

Foggy shook his head as he paced the length of the kitchen, his ire growing the more he thought about what Matt was undoubtedly doing would mean for all of them. "Not directly, but it affects me. Whatever affects you affects me. Have we not been through this before?" He finished his last lap in front of the table, and punctuated his question with a smack of his hand on its surface.

"Stop that. And stop yelling."

He took a deep breath and lowered the volume of his voice as he attempted to control his temper with a hard exhalation. "I'm really not yelling."

"It sounds like you're yelling."

"To you. Not everything you perceive is how it truly is, Matt. Remember?"

"I know, Foggy. Please let's not do this again." If letting Foggy have that point would de-escalate the situation, he'd give it up.

He paused for a fraction of a second, but Matt heard the acceleration of Foggy's pulse just before his voice rose half an octave and about 25 decibels as he started in again. "We don't know anything about her!"

Matt kept his cool now, although he struggled. "I don't ever know anything about any of them, not really."

"And you don't see this as a problem?" Foggy's heart rate continued to race, even though his voice returned a little closer to normal timber and volume.

Matt closed his eyes as he spoke. "I know you won't believe this, but she's different."

"And what brings you to that conclusion?"

"She just is." Matt sighed. "I think."

"Matt!"

Matt felt his own patience wearing thin. "We can't all get a Karen, Foggy," he snapped back.

"You could have had the actual Karen!" Foggy pointed out, as though this would be news to Matt, that he should have already thought of it.

Matt shook his head. "I was just a crush for her. You two could make a real go of it."

Foggy stopped, blinked three or four times and dropped into what had been Liz's seat. "You know about that? Of course you know about that."

"I'm happy for both of you. Truly."

"So this is about that?" Fatigue crept into Foggy's voice and quickly permeated his body. He couldn't help it that he was finally happy and Matt wasn't. He wasn't going to apologize for that.

Matt shook his head again. "I like pretty, smart, well-educated women with some fire in them. Is that so terrible?"

"It really isn't." It wasn't. Foggy felt a little unreasonable, but this never ended well.

"And she knows the truth. That has to make a difference." Matt sounded so hopeful. He almost believed himself.

Foggy nodded. "It did to Claire," he pointed out.

Matt closed his eyes against that thought. "I know. And I can't be sure that she won't change her mind when she's patching me up every other night, but for now we have a little time to get to know one another."

"Or, here's another idea that I'm going to throw out there - maybe you could just stop going out there every night, and no one would have to patch you up."

"Foggy."

"I know. I know." He really did. "But I'm still going to suggest it every now and then," he offered as an unspoken truce, effectively ending this portion of the conversation.

Matt sat quietly for another two or three minutes before he spoke. "She's back. Go down and help her with the bags."

"Sure." Foggy didn't move.

"She wants to make dinner for the four of us."

"Karen said she, um, _bathed_ you last night?"

Matt unlocked the chair's brakes. "It wasn't like that."

"You weren't naked?"

Matt ignored him. "Please go help her! She's already on the second floor."

Foggy stood with a huff. "Why didn't you give her the elevator key?"

"I didn't think about it as she was rushing out of here to avoid the awkward tension between us. It's on the counter, I think."

"Okay," Foggy conceded.

"You're going to have to take the stairs now. She's halfway here."

"Is she part mountain goat?"

Matt glared at him; Foggy got the idea. He walked toward the door with a sigh and a shake of the head.

"I didn't sleep with her Foggy." Matt confessed to his friend's back.

"It's only a matter of time." Foggy mumbled, knowing that would be more than loud enough for Matt to hear him, before he walked back through the front door.

Matt needed a drink. He hoped Liz had thought to bring a six-pack. Or a case. It was completely true that Foggy knew him better than anyone, and he'd been the one picking Matt up off the floor, literally and figuratively, for the better part of the past eight years. Matt didn't always show the best judgment in regards to beautiful women, especially those with spectacular character flaws. That fact had been entered into evidence many, many times over. And he was smack-dab in the middle of an emotional roller coaster, which couldn't be helpful to the decision-making process. Matt didn't blame his best friend, his only real friend, for worrying about his next potential move with Liz.

The two of them returned a few minutes later, Foggy obviously having convinced Liz to utilize the elevator key from the fourth floor up, as neither was too out of breath despite the parcels in their arms when they returned.

"Does it matter where we put these things, Matt?" Liz asked as she entered the kitchen.

"I'm not walking anywhere right now, so knock yourself out."

Liz turned to Foggy as they deposited the bags on the counter. "If I'm going to be here for a little bit, you guys should at least get home-cooked meals out of it. I have a feeling that neither of you eats anything that didn't come from a Styrofoam container more often than once a month."

"Wait, who said you're staying?" Matt inquired. He turned to Foggy. "Who says she's staying?"

Foggy raised his eyebrows at Liz who indicated she would field this. "I moved some shifts around so I can be around here for the next week or so. That frees up Foggy and Karen to take care of your clients and your office." She took the seat beside him before she continued. "And hopefully by next week you'll be mobile enough to make it in there yourself."

"Maybe," Matt hoped.

Liz touched the inside of his wrist where she had earlier. "And once you're using the crutches well, navigating here will be no problem."

"Yeah. I guess." He pushed the wheelchair back from the table. They'd tried to keep the transfers at a minimum today after Matt's solo foray, as all the anesthesia from the day before was long gone, and Matt had blanched with pain a few more times since the roof. "But what about the office? What am I going to do about that?"

"I can stop by in the morning to pick you up," Foggy offered. "It might be smarter and easier to use the chair to get you to there, but then it doesn't matter how you move around if it's just us."

They both waited for Matt to consider this. Finally, he nodded. "That might work."

"You'll see Jim in about two weeks, and he'll let us, or you, know how things are going and a time frame of what to expect," Liz added. "Do you remember talking to him afterwards?"

Matt shook his head. "No."

"Not surprising. You were just waking up."

Matt nodded, feeling increasingly exhausted and not really wanting to talk about this anymore. "Can I have some water?" he asked, his throat suddenly parched. "And then I think I'm gonna take a nap." Foggy shot a glance toward Liz. That wasn't normal. Not for Matt. Liz filled a glass and sat it in front of him. She rested the back of her hand on his forehead. Foggy realized that Matt let her before he declared, "I don't have a fever."

She turned her hand ever so slightly so that her fingers brushed the stubble on the angle of his jaw. "I know. Habit." She recognized that she'd kept her hand on his face a little too long and pulled it back. "But you should rest now. Foggy?"

The other man stood back, watching in disbelief. Although, why shouldn't he believe it? What he was witnessing was hardly a rare occurrence. Women could not resist what Foggy jokingly called the "wounded handsome duck thing." And Matt always took full advantage of the superficiality it. Only this girl knew everything, and it really didn't seem to matter to her the way it had to Claire. Matt hadn't said anything about that past "It just didn't work out," because none of them really did in the long run, but Jesus. Again? And so soon after the last one? Foggy didn't know if he could suffer through another of Matt's heartbreaks, even if Matt thought he could.

But Matt needed him right now, and he could help. "Yeah. Sure." Liz helped Matt move the chair, her hand on his and he retreated both of his to his lap. That was new, too, watching Matt give in to help. Foggy faltered.

Matt spoke as though he'd read Foggy's mind. "I thought this is what you wanted. For me to just sit here."

"Couch or bed?" was all he could manage in reply.

Matt pondered for a second. "Bed. No, couch." That would keep him in the action, provided there was any more action. He tried his hardest to help Foggy help him, despite what had just transpired between them. But he quickly realized he proved to be little more than dead weight. He sighed for the hundredth time in the past hour as he pulled the plush blanket around him.

Meanwhile Liz busied herself in the kitchen with unpacking the groceries. "Foggy, dinner?" she asked as she held up a box of pasta.

"I guess I don't have anything else planned."

"He'll stay," Matt piped up from his repose on the couch. "Somebody should call Karen."

"She had a spin class. She'll be over after that," Foggy revealed.

"Oh." Matt closed his eyes as Foggy propped his left leg with an extra pillow. "Thanks, Foggy," he managed, his voice thick with sleep.

Liz assembled the ingredients she needed on the counter top. "Everything will be ready in about an hour."

"I'll be up on the roof," Foggy decided as he turned away from Matt. "Will you send Karen up when she gets here?"

"Sure," Liz affirmed as she began filling pans with water as she watched Foggy ascend the stairs. She glanced toward Matt on the couch. His back faced her, and his breathing settled into a slower pattern, but she had the sneaky suspicion that he wasn't actually asleep. Liz could imagine the gist of the conversation the two men had undertaken while she'd been gone. Foggy's pinched expression when he arrived to help her with the groceries had said plenty even if he hadn't. Liz sensed that she should probably steer well clear of Matt Murdock and this whole mess, but somehow she knew in the depths of herself that she wouldn't.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Thank you for your continued interest, reads, favorites and follows.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Karen arrived about forty minutes later. She fawned over the sleeping patient for a moment or two before Liz sent her up to retrieve Foggy from the roof. Her face darkened when Liz gave her the quick synopsis of the past hour and the conversations between the two men. She nodded knowingly as she headed up to find him. He was sitting on the edge of a planter box, staring off into the setting sun when Karen approached him.

"Hey," she whispered as she took a seat to Foggy's right. "Liz said you've been up here for a while. Aren't you cold?" She shivered, punctuating her point.

He reached his arm around her to protect against the chill of the evening breeze. "Just needed some air."

Karen snuggled into his side. "She does seem different than the others. Than Elektra, for sure." The two women briefly crossed paths a few weeks earlier. It hadn't been especially pleasant for Karen.

"She isn't. Believe me, Karen. They never are. And he knows it. Why do you think he never…" Foggy stopped.

"He never what?"

"You." Foggy burst.

Karen twisted in his arms, pressing her body even closer to his. "Foggy. That was a long time ago."

"It was a year ago. And I get it Karen. He is handsome and charming and wounded. And I've never been able to compete with that." He rested his pursed lips against her forehead.

Her fingers found their way to the edge of his hair that brushed his collar. "It's not a competition."

"That's not what I mean." Foggy pulled back and blew out a breath. "I mean…I don't know what I mean."

Karen turned his face toward hers. "Hey. I know how much he means to you."

He extricated himself from her grasp and stared off to the west again. "He does, too. And it doesn't make any difference to him. He doesn't care what this does to me, what watching him so fucking close to dead does to me."

Karen placed her palm on his cheek. "Oh, Hun."

His hand reached up to meet hers, allowing their fingers to interlace. He brought them both back to his lap. "I can't go back in there with him tonight. I can't do it, Karen."

"You have to. He's not himself. Even I can see that."

"And what about this girl? She seems nice enough, even if she does have the same need for disaster as Matt. That's all we need – two of them to look after." Foggy shook his head.

"Seems like she can look after herself just fine. She took care of things well enough yesterday." Karen blushed, hoping it would blend into the crimson reflecting from the horizon.

"Oh, I'm sure she took care of everything, and I'm sure he helped out the best he could," he scoffed.

"Foggy."

"I'm just so tired of it, Karen. He's over 30 now. I can't clean up after him forever."

"You can, and I'd bet that you will." She took their connected hands and pulled him toward the door as she stood. "Let's go eat. It smells really good. And he can hear us."

"I know. I'm counting on it."

"Foggy."

"Let's just go in."

All four of them picked at their plates as they sat in silence. Matt managed a handful of bites before he pushed his plate back. Karen shot Foggy a glance and nudged him toward Matt's barely touched dinner.

"Do you want something else?" He asked the other man. "I can run down to the Thai place." Matt couldn't live on pho alone, but it could get him through the next few days if needed.

"No. This is good. I'm just not hungry." He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

"You've barely eaten anything in two days, Matt."

"I'm not hungry, Foggy." He pulled back from the table. "But thanks for this, Liz. It really is good." He propelled the chair forward a couple of pushes in the direction of the bedroom. "I think I'm going to turn in."

The other three watched as he retreated slowly into the master suite. Foggy glanced down, realizing that his hands were clenched into fists as he watched Matt exit. Karen covered the one closest to her with her own hand.

"Maybe we should give him a little space?" she suggested.

"So he can break his neck the next time. Excellent idea," fumed Foggy.

"He's not going out anytime soon. And I have a feeling that he'd appreciate getting us out of his hair," reasoned Karen.

Foggy looked over toward Liz who stood by the kitchen sink, not even attempting to veil his forlorn expression. She jumped in immediately. "I'll clean up here and make sure he makes it to bed okay. I'll stay tonight and be here in the morning. Someone still needs to be here, and I'm an outsider, so maybe that will seem a little less intrusive."

Foggy couldn't overrule everyone. He pulled his hand back from Karen's before he shuffled toward the door, head bowed in defeat. "I can't fight all three of you."

Karen glanced from Liz to the place where Foggy had just stood and back.

Liz motioned toward the door with the wave of her hand. "I'll look after things here, Karen. Go with him."

Karen paused for a conflicted moment before she nodded and raced after the already disappeared Foggy. Liz surveyed the counter top, the kitchen table, and the dishes in the sink in front of her. Matt didn't have a dishwasher, and the place was now a colossal mess. She left everything for the moment and headed into the bedroom. Matt had made it as far as the bathroom by the time she caught up with him.

"Hey." She knew he knew that she was there, but it still seemed more polite to announce her presence verbally.

Matt hadn't quite made it to his toothbrush yet. "He won't stay away. He can't."

Liz slid in behind him. "He worries about you because he cares."

He turned in the chair to almost face her. "I'm sorry about dinner. Maybe I'll feel like eating tomorrow."

"It's fine, Matt. Really."

He dropped his head into his hands. "I'm so tired. I think I overdid it a little today." As soon as he said the words, his head jerked up. "Do not tell Foggy I said that."

She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I won't. Do you want some help here, or do you have it?"

"I'll get to bed faster with help," he decided with a groan.

"Okay." She moved in closer and helped him maneuver the chair further into the bathroom so that the edge of the sink was within his reach. He accepted his toothbrush as she stood to the side. "Shower?"

Matt considered this for a moment. "Yeah. If you don't mind."

"You'll need new sheets on the bed, too." They hadn't gotten around to changing the cotton ones from last night yet.

"The silk ones are in the closet."

She helped Matt slip into the tub and handed him the shower head. He convinced her that he could handle the rest while she made up the bed. Liz left him to his own devices and exited to prepare the linens. She finished a few minutes just as he called for her. He couldn't quite reach the faucet. Liz extinguished the flow of water and handed Matt a towel before she helped him scoot back into the chair and then continue into his bedroom. Once he collapsed onto the bed, he allowed her to help him dress, totally spent. She thought he was asleep when she slid off the bed and started toward the kitchen to finish the clean-up, but his hand caught hers.

"Stay," he breathed.

"I have to take care of the kitchen."

"It can wait."

It couldn't. "Give me ten minutes. Okay?"

He yawned. "I'll try."

She made it back in seven, having thrown everything in his meager supply of Tupperware. There was plenty of room in the fridge. She wiped up the counters and ran hot soapy water in which she placed the dishes for soaking. Still, Matt snored lightly as she entered his room. She headed instead into the bathroom where her own toothbrush had taken up residence. Once she'd washed up, she passed through his room on her way to the couch. His breathing had changed. She stopped short of the living room.

"Matt?"

"I keep hearing them." He reached for her as he attempted to sit, his face awash in anguish.

She climbed onto the bed beside him and placed her hand in his. "Who do you hear?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled with a shudder, straining against his inability to move. "People who are in trouble, who need me, or him."

"What?"

He swallowed hard and licked his lips, biting the bottom one as he spoke. "There's a woman two blocks from here who's being attacked by her date."

Liz's eyes grew wide. "Should we call the police?"

"And tell them what, exactly?"

"That I heard something at my neighbor's house and ask them to check it out," she offered.

"Fisk is still running this town, including the NYPD." He shook his head in disgust. "It wouldn't matter even if we did."

"There have to be some honest people left in the city. He can't have gotten to every officer."

"He hasn't, but I don't know which apartment it is."

She traced the outline of his hand with her finger. "Can you narrow down the building?"

"The block, maybe. I don't know if I can do any better than that without getting closer. I'm usually closer," he lamented.

"Maybe she actually has neighbors who will come to her aid, or will at least call 911."

"Hm," Matt mused. "You really don't know much about Hell's Kitchen, do you?"

Liz let her hand trail up Matt's arm. "What can I do to help?"

Matt exhaled, his breath hitching as he considered his complete helplessness. "Nothing. There's nothing we can do. I shouldn't even know what's going on out there, but I do."

"Can you shut it off in any way?"

Matt shrugged with a quick shake of his head. "Sometimes when I'm really drunk I don't notice it as much."

"Do you still get the spins?"

"Yeah." Matt laughed genuinely. "I do. And it can be pretty intense."

"Well that sucks. Seems like you'd maybe get a pass on that."

Matt squeezed her hand. "It does, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Matt," Liz responded.

"About the spins?" He shrugged again. "I'm all good there."

"Not about the spins."

"I know." He pulled her closer to his left side, carefully minding the stitches.

She kissed his upper arm. "Maybe we can keep your mind off all of this some other way?"

"Liz," he breathed deeply as he attempted to rein himself in. "That's sweet, but that's not what I meant."

"Oh, sure." She attempted to duck from beneath his arm, but he held her tight.

"That's not what I meant, either. And it's not that I don't want to, it's just that…"

"Hey." She kissed his cheek. "You don't have to explain anything, Matt. And all of the world's problems can't be solved in the bedroom. I sometimes forget that."

"It's not a horrible way to solve some problems," he pointed out.

"But maybe not the bigger ones."

"Maybe not."

"I get that," she agreed. "I should go to the couch."

She attempted to extricate herself a final time, but he held her hand. "Or you could stay here."

"Matt."

"Just sleep. I promise." He turned his faced toward her, almost looking her in the eye. "Sometimes it's just nice to have another heartbeat in the room. You know?"

She did. "Okay." Liz settled carefully back against his side. "Let's just sleep."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This one is a bit longer than usual, but I think we're getting somewhere. Maybe? Thanks for reading - I can see that you do, and I promise that it helps to move things along.

* * *

Chapter 8

Foggy didn't show his face the next day or the one after that. Karen dropped by on Friday evening bearing pizza, but Foggy wasn't with her. She had to admit that Matt looked better. The bruises on his face had faded, and he evidently had found his razor at some point during the week – not today, but sometime. He was alone in the living room practicing with the crutches when she arrived.

"Hey, Matt," she greeted. "That looks pretty good."

He sidestepped a rogue kitchen chair in the middle of the floor. "Except I'm not supposed to be able to see where I'm going, which will be a distinct disadvantage outside of this loft."

Karen deposited the pizza behind him on the table. "Still. That seems like it might be a little easier to maneuver than the chair, especially in your office."

He hopped into the living room and dropped into an armchair. "Yeah. It's pretty small. Pizza smells good."

"I thought Liz should get the night off from cooking."

"There's not so much cooking. But there is a lot of cereal. And kale."

Karen's face twisted into a disgusted scowl. "I hope not at the same time."

Matt grinned. "No."

"I have some documents you need to sign." She dug in her bag and retrieved the papers and a signature guide. She conducted a quick search for a something for him to write on.

He leaned toward the coffee table. "Maybe over here?"

"You don't have any books."

"The Braille ones are so big. I tend to stick to audio files for pleasure reading."

"Here," she pushed the papers toward him and placed the pen in his hand. His fingers found the plastic card where Karen had secured it.

"Is he coming by?" Matt asked as he signed his name on the contracts.

"He didn't know if he should."

Matt tightened his grip on the pen before releasing it and setting it on the table in front of him. He slid the papers back toward her. "I don't want to fight with him, Karen."

"I know. That's why he's stayed away for a few days."

"Is he okay?"

She nodded. "He started to call you about three times last night. And he was halfway here yesterday after work before he realized what he was doing and turned around to head home. And when he is there, he's like a caged animal, pacing and mumbling. He's okay, but he misses you."

Matt hung his head. "I'm a horrible patient. It's not that I don't appreciate his concern; I just don't like needing it."

"I know, and he does, too," assured Karen.

"I almost called him twice today." Matt sighed. "I should call him."

"He's going out with some guys from his old neighborhood tonight. I nearly had to beg him to go, but he is."

Matt voiced his agreement. "I'm glad he's getting out. Just because I'm basically a prisoner doesn't mean he has to be."

"He really doesn't have any other friends."

"Neither do I," Matt pointed out.

"I know. One of you is as bad as the other."

"He should come by tomorrow." Matt picked up a crutch. "I can show him my skills."

Karen crossed to the coffee table and retrieved the papers. She kissed Matt's cheek before she stood. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks for the pizza."

"Oh shoot. It's getting cold. Let me get you a slice." She grabbed a plate and a couple of pieces. "Where's Liz?"

"She had to run a few errands. She went to her place and is stopping at the gym on the way back. I think she's starting to feel a little cooped up, too."

"You like her."

"She's made all this less disastrous, somehow," Matt offered with a grin.

"That's good."

"It could have been a lot worse."

Karen made another face. "Yeah. Foggy could have had to help you in the shower."

Matt opened his mouth, but several moments passed before he recovered his faculties. "I think I would have just taken a dip in the river if that had been the case."

Karen patted his arm. "Think you'll make it in on Monday?"

Matt nodded. "Thus the crutches."

"Don't break your neck." She crossed the room in the direction of the front door.

"You sound like Foggy."

"I know." Karen stopped at the edge of the living room. "I'll tell him you said hello."

Matt picked up a slice of pizza. "Thanks Karen."

Once he finished eating, he balanced precariously with the plate and the crutches and covered the 20 feet or so leading to the kitchen. He was standing over the sink not washing the plate when Liz returned.

She traversed the living room, coming to a stop by the kitchen table. "Pizza? Are you trying to completely undo my gymming?"

He laughed. "I don't think that's a word."

"I don't either. But I will take some of this."

"Plates are over there." Matt pointed to the shelf to his left. "I don't think I can move right now."

Liz ran her hand down his arm. "Should you sit?"

He considered this for a moment, answering affirmatively with a curt nod. "Maybe."

She bit her bottom lip as she looked him over. "You think you'll be ready by Monday?"

"How bad is my face? Will I scare off potential clients? Or actual clients?"

Liz's finger traced the prickly edge of his jaw. "It's not too bad. Kind of rugged."

Matt managed a sarcastic smirk. "Because I do so much hiking and wood chopping." He swayed slightly, grabbing the counter to stop himself from falling.

Liz placed a stabilizing hand on his arm. "I'm starving, and you're listing like the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"Yeah. I felt a little short of vertical there."

Liz gripped the waistband at the back of his pants. "Make appropriate use of those crutches and I'll spot you from back here." Matt hobbled back across the floor, tripping forward as one of the sticks hit Liz's duffel bag. He barely avoided a total wipeout as her hands pulled him back upright. "Shit. I'm sorry. Did you not see that?"

"Um, no." He blinked a couple of times. "I actually am blind, Liz."

"But not completely. Right?" She sounded unsure.

He could understand how she'd become baffled by his abilities or lack thereof. "I can't drive or read print or distinguish faces or anything like that. Outlines of objects I can usually make out, but it requires concentration to filter everything else. A lot of concentration. If I'm tired or intoxicated or sick, I might as well be completely blind."

"But how do you do what you do?" She'd been dying to investigate further although she really hadn't planned to do it like this.

"It's hard to explain. It's completely different when I'm in that mindset, but that's just not practical for everyday life. So yes, I can still trip over errant furniture and bags." They'd arrived at the couch by now. Matt fell back onto the cushions.

"I guess I didn't understand."

"How could you," he commiserated. "It's very confusing."

She headed back to the kitchen to retrieve her food. "Do you want any more pizza?" Matt nodded. "And something to drink?"

"A beer?" He suggested, not quite remembering if there were any left.

"You rebel."

He shrugged. "It's Friday night."

She pulled two from the fridge. "I'll join you. It will make us both look a little more socially acceptable."

"Yeah. Good plan." Liz took a seat beside Matt, placing a bottle in front of him. "How often do you go, um, gymming?"

"Oh, shit!" Liz gasped. "I took a shower there. I used their soap and shampoo. It smells horrible, doesn't it?"

"It is a little, um, pungent," he confessed.

She jumped up. "I can shower again."

He reached toward her. "I'll be okay."

She was hungry, and a second shower right now would not be ideal. "You sure?"

"Definitely." He patted the seat beside him. "Finish your pizza." She sat, and they ate in silence for a while before Matt spoke again. "Karen brought this."

"With Foggy?"

Matt shook his head. "He's out with friends."

"He has other friends?" Liz sounded a little shocked at that revelation.

"I've known him for less than 10 years. He must have talked to someone before that."

"That's not necessarily true."

Matt's face relaxed into a mischievous smirk. "His social skills were remarkably well-developed when I met him. Somebody had already lain the groundwork. But perhaps that could be chalked up to his Dungeons and Dragons pals."

Liz chuckled as she rubbed Matt's arm. "You seem a little more energized tonight."

"I feel pretty good," he agreed. "But I took it easy today."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but it makes me a little concerned about Monday. I don't know if I can manage a full day." He kicked a crutch with his right foot. "Especially with these."

"Maybe start with half days and work up?"

He pondered that. "That's a possibility."

She cleared their plates. "I brought my laptop if you want to watch a movie or a show or something." She paused. "Except how does that work, exactly?"

"Foggy narrates. He's a fan of Tarantino. And Pixar."

"I can see that."

"I prefer the Coens, myself."

"Completely understandable. Although the visual of Javier Bardem's haircut in 'No Country for Old Men' has to be considered an essential part of the film's overall experience." She finished in the kitchen. "I'm going to see to that shower now." Matt levered himself into a standing position. He only wavered slightly. "You good?" she asked as he worked out his balance.

"Yeah. I'm just going to the bedroom."

Matt settled on the bed while Liz made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She was standing under the spray when she heard him open the door. She pulled open the back side of the curtain to see what he was doing. He leaned against the sink wearing only boxer briefs.

"Matt?" He seemed fine. Check that - he _was_ fine.

He ducked his head in a self-deprecating gesture. "Can I join you?"

"To save water?" she teased.

Matt lifted his chin and rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I was thinking about."

"No. I'd imagine not." She stepped over the ledge of the tub. She reached out and touched his hand before hers slid to the waistband of his underwear. "You'll need to lose these, though."

He pulled her close to him with his free arm. "I might need a little help in that department. I haven't quite mastered one-legged standing dressing and undressing just yet."

"Okay," she shivered.

"You're cold." He wrapped his arms around her. "And we're wasting water."

"Can you stand in the shower?"

"I might need some assistance with that, too."

Instead of answering with words, she tugged at his shorts. He leaned back against the sink as she untangled them from his feet. He unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a groan of pain. She looked up at him. "You okay?"

His left foot still ached at baseline. The tugging of the underwear didn't improve that any. He gritted his teeth but managed a clipped "Yeah." She helped him move to the edge of the tub before she climbed across him. She took his hand in hers, and he stood, their chests pressed together as she helped him ease back against the shower wall. He gingerly placed his injured foot on the ledge of the tub. She kept a hand on his arm.

"You don't look very comfortable," she mused.

"This idea was more successful in theory than in practice."

"Do you want to sit on the tub, or in it?"

"And let your cast-off water rain down on me? Um, no."

She reached onto her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his neck. "I have to be honest with you, Matt. I am looking this time."

His hands migrated from her shoulders down the front of her, exploring gently. He managed a contented sigh. "So am I."

* * *

Following the previous weekend's hubbub, Foggy took it upon himself to make a copy of Matt's keys. They'd never technically done the exchange thing, but this incident had trumped all of Matt's previous rebuffs of such a suggestion. Once Foggy opened the door, he realized acutely why Matt held on to that scrap of privacy. Liz wasn't on the couch, but her bag still occupied a place on the living room floor. And she was making coffee, wrapped haphazardly in Matt's light blue button-down. Typical.

"Hey Foggy."

"Liz. Sorry. I should have called."

"He's awake."

"I thought you might need a break or that he might want to get out of here for a while. But I'm just going to go." He took a couple of steps backward. "I should have called."

"Foggy!" Matt called from the bedroom. "I can't chase after you, so you're gonna have to come in here."

He looked over toward Liz, eyebrows raised. She shrugged before she shooed him in Matt's direction with the wave of her hand.

"Hey, buddy," Foggy tried as he stepped into the bedroom.

"When did you make a key?"

"While you were in the operating room. You know, a couple hours after you collapsed on the roof bleeding and unable to move?"

"Yeah. Okay." Matt guessed Foggy having a key to his apartment wasn't totally unreasonable.

"But I should only use it if you don't answer the phone."

"That might be best," Matt agreed.

Foggy's voice took on a more serious note. "So, do we need to talk about this?"

"No."

" _Can_ we talk about this?" Foggy sounded more hopeful than concerned.

Matt laughed at his friend's insinuation. "No!"

"Just be careful, okay?" Foggy realized he might as well be talking to the wall once they'd broached this subject.

"I know what I'm doing."

Foggy nodded with a sarcastic jab. "Yep. Just like always."

"Foggy."

"Sorry. Just calling it like I see it." He crossed the room and retrieved a pair of boxers from Matt's drawer and threw them on the bed. "But put these on. Talking to you when you're naked is a little creepy when you're not three-fourths dead."

"Yeah. Okay. But turn around while I do, or better yet, go get some coffee," Matt suggested.

"She's not much more dressed than you," Foggy pointed out.

"Well, maybe give us a minute? Grab some pastries around the corner or something?"

"And you're gonna eat a pastry?" Matt's chiseled abs suggested otherwise.

"No, but you will. And Liz probably will, too. Go wait in line for a cronut or whatever it is people are queuing for these days."

Foggy scoffed. "I'm not going all the way down there."

"Would you just get out of here for like half an hour so we can get things situated?" Matt begged.

"Oh, right. Yeah."

But Foggy didn't move. Matt prompted him again. "See you in a little bit."

"Yeah. Yeah! I'm going." He didn't look toward the kitchen as he made a beeline for the door. "Bye Liz." Then he was gone.

Liz rejoined Matt with a couple of mugs a minute or two later. "Seems like we've got a lot of splaining to do, Lucy." She handed one over to him.

"Jesus." Matt gulped his too hot coffee as soon as the cup was in his hands. "What possessed him to make a key and come in here like that?"

"I'm assuming that question was rhetorical." She'd only known these folks for about a week, but it did seem that Matt really could answer his own inquiry.

Matt shook his head and handed his mug back to her. "Not exactly how I planned this."

"This was planned?" She placed both their cups on the night stand as she turned toward him.

"No." He pulled her closer to him. "But I generally try to be a little smoother than all this."

"I have no doubt about that," she murmured into his chest.

" _Are_ you sure about this, Liz?"

Her fingers grazed his chest. "I'm a big girl, Matt."

"Foggy says I use the 'wounded duck' thing to my advantage," he admitted.

"You'd be kind of stupid not to."

He swallowed hard. "But I don't want this to be about that." Was this about that? He hoped to God not.

"Honestly Matt, I don't know what this is, but I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the appeal." She blew that all out in one breath, holding off from taking another before he spoke in response.

The one word he managed came out in a strangled whisper. "Seriously?"

"I'm an ER doctor," she explained meekly. "I'm weirdly drawn to drama and tragedy."

He dropped his arms from around her shoulders. "Oh."

She wasn't sure if she should backtrack or push forward. "I'm not saying that's what's happening here, but I understand Foggy's point."

Matt scooted toward the far edge of the bed. "Could you hand me the crutches? If that's not too provocative for you," he bit.

"Matt." She touched his arm but he shook her off.

He felt his sails deflating. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

"Are you…" she stopped. "Can you…"

"I'll be fine," he finished for her. "And Foggy will be back in like 20 minutes."

"Matt," she tried again.

He didn't mince any words. "I really need you to go, Liz."

His comeback smacked her squarely across the face. She physically recoiled back on the bed, away from him. "Sure. Yeah." She did not want to leave him in this manner, but she had a feeling that staying right now would accomplish nothing.

"I just need some time to clear my head." He retreated from the finality of his previous statement, offering a possibility that they could work through this later.

"Yeah, no. I understand." She kissed his mouth as she stood. He didn't reciprocate, biting his lips together in protest of any reaction his body might have to hers in such close proximity. Liz sighed with eyes closed for a moment before she walked away from him. She deposited his shirt on the chair before grabbing her own things from the living room floor and shimmying into some sweats and a jacket on the top of her bag.

Matt tried to block out the pounding of her racing heartbeat as she stood in front of him in the bedroom and then as she scooped her things and basically ran from his place. He listened as she galloped down the steps and into the street before he collapsed back on the bed, working at slowing his own pulse as he did so. He hadn't intended to be such an ass. But he also hadn't expected her to admit that she was attracted to his vulnerabilities. He fucking hated that.

And now Foggy would be back in about 15 minutes towing a truckload of questions behind him. Matt grabbed the crutches and teetered down the hall toward the bathroom. He planned to be in the shower longer than 15 minutes. But what the hell did that matter now? Foggy had his own key.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks for your continued interest.

* * *

Chapter 9

Matt lasted a little over four hours at the office the following Monday. Foggy authorized a long lunch for himself to usher Matt home as well as an early dismissal for Karen to make sure Matt was completely settled a few hours later. She brought a bag of groceries when she arrived. His appetite really hadn't improved, with the exception of Friday's pizza, but she chose a selection of what Foggy had had advised were his favorites just anyway. She found him asleep on the couch when she granted herself entrance with Foggy's key. She attempted to avoid disturbing him as she put things away, but he woke when she was about halfway through her reorganization of his kitchen shelves.

"Karen?" he croaked, his voice still thick with sleep and underlying exhaustion.

"Yeah, it's me. Just restocking your supplies here."

He'd never find anything, but whatever. He hadn't starved yet. "Thanks."

"Do you need anything?"

He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Just some water when you get a chance."

"Sure." She filled a coffee mug and sat it on the table in front of him. "Have you talked to Liz?"

 _Way to cut to the chase, Karen_. He shook his head. "Not since she left here Saturday morning."

"Matt," she scolded softly.

"I don't want to talk about it." He sat up, making room for her on the couch. He knew her well enough by now to know that they were going to talk about it.

She took her place on the cushion beside him. "What happened?"

"That is precisely what I don't want to talk about."

Her hand rested on his thigh just above his knee, her touch light but firm, grounding. "If this is a case of you being stubborn, then you should get over it."

He twisted out of her reach, more out of instinct than spite. "Who says this is my fault? Who says she didn't run out on me?"

"You did. Just now," Karen answered. She exuded calm with no change in her breathing or heart rate. Matt hadn't expected that, hadn't expected her to see right through him.

"Karen," he sighed.

Her hand found him again, pulled him back. "You haven't cornered the market on perception, Matt." He dropped his head. Karen thought she saw him nod, or maybe she imagined it. Either way, she pushed on. "You really should talk to her."

He raised his head, turning it toward the windows. "It's really complicated."

Karen moved her hand to his face, her grip again light but firm, and directed his gaze in her direction. "Yeah. It is. Until you talk to her and un-complicate it."

Mat longed to stand, to walk away from her, from this conversation. But he was stuck – in so many ways. "The more I talk, the more complicated things become."

Karen shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you about that."

"It's okay." It really was. "This isn't your problem to fix." It really wasn't.

"Maybe not, but that's not how this works."

Matt scowled. "What do you mean?"

"You're not alone anymore here, Matt." She squeezed his hand.

He closed his eyes, wishing that were true, willing it to be so, even with the obvious drawbacks. "Karen," he tried to protest.

She shut him down with a dogged shake of her head and the continued stabilizing grip on his hand. "Nope. Like it or not, you and Foggy and I are family. It's a weird little unit, but it is what it is. And family means nobody gets left behind."

"Oh my God," Matt snickered, realizing he should try to keep a straight face, unable to appreciate the stricken look on Karen's. "He's got you watching Disney movies now, too?"

"What?" The pitch of Karen's voice elevated about an octave at the end of the word.

"That's from _Lilo & Stitch_," Matt revealed with a little wag of his head and a roll of his eyes.

"Is it really?" she asked. The phrase _had_ sounded familiar on the way out of her mouth.

"Yeah," he chuckled again. "It definitely is."

"Oh, dear." Karen laughed now, too.

He realized her hand was still in his and squeezed back as though employing their own version of Morse code. "You two are a good match."

"Yeah?"

He appreciated the hope that one word held and nodded decisively. "Absolutely. And if I didn't know by now, this totally seals it."

Karen's hand inched up his forearm. "Talk to her. There's no sense in speculating about anything until you do."

He sighed, a cloud descending across his visage. "Who would be crazy enough to sign up for all of this?"

"Foggy says she didn't bat an eye the night he found you," Karen offered, searching to bolster the argument with some sort of objective evidence. "She just walked right in and took charge."

He shrugged that off with a simple explanation. "She's an ER doctor." Liz had said as much herself.

Karen nodded. "She is. And seems like she can handle herself just fine. She just might be able to handle you, too."

"It's not fair," he whispered. It wasn't. He prided himself in keeping his circle safe, but it kept expanding. And if something happened to one of them now, there would be almost nothing he could do to remedy the situation.

She let her shoulders rise and fall. "Maybe not, but you have to let it be her choice, too. What really isn't fair is if you make this one for her." She paused before she punctuated her point. "You know how you hate people doing that for you."

"Yeah. But if I do…" he trailed off.

"You give her the chance to let you down. Yep. That's how it works, Matt."

He dropped his head into his hands. "People always leave."

Karen grinned as she playfully nudged his healing side with her elbow. "That's _One Tree Hill_."

"So it is," he confirmed with a side eyed smile and a wink. This girl was perfect for Foggy.

Karen decided on her final angle. "She uses your soap, for goodness sake. That's almost on your level of crazy."

Matt considered this for a moment before he nodded. "I guess it is."

"Talk to her."

* * *

Thankfully, Monday lived up to its reputation. Everything that could possibly be put off over the weekend needed to be attended to immediately as the workweek and Liz's shift started at 7 am. While her colleagues whined about not having a moment to sit, eat, drink, or pee all day, Liz found herself thankful she hadn't a moment to spend thinking about anything other than work.

She'd held the phone in her hand the night before. She pulled Matt's number up on the screen three, four, five times but stopped herself each time before connecting the call. She told herself that if he wanted to talk he'd call, even though she knew how statistically unlikely that was. He billed himself as self-sufficient, but with a healthy dose of self-righteousness. She guessed he rarely found occasion to talk about his feelings or that he chose reach to out to others too often. Or ever. She knew Foggy found him on the roof that night because he'd been waiting, not because Matt had asked for help. There was no way Matt would fight to fix this rift.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jim's earlier critique of Liz had been spot on; she had a type. And it wasn't good guys like Jim. Hell. From the news it seemed like Superman was getting along pretty well these days with minimal drama reported in his personal life. Maybe she should head over to Metropolis and mess around with that, too, seeing as she seemed to flock to the virtuous. Plus or minus the damage.

She closed her eyes in a moment of consternation, opening them immediately as she relived the look of betrayal on Matt's face the last time they'd been together. She'd wanted to be honest. She _was_ attracted to every part of what made him who he was. She thought he might understand that, even as he struggled with accepting it himself. Obviously she'd been remiss in that thinking.

"Liz! GSW on the way in to Trauma 1," the charge nurse yelled toward her. She shook the cobwebs and fog as she looked up from the unfinished chart in front of her and nodded. She grabbed a yellow gown and jogged into the room to prepare for the incoming ambulance. She could definitely use something nice and easy like a gunshot wound to distract her from thoughts of Matt Murdock about now.

Two hours after her shift ended and she'd completed a good chunk of the day's documentation, she stumbled onto a subway car headed south toward home. Instead of exiting at 72nd street as was her routine, she sat glued to her seat until the A train's next stop at 50th street and 8th avenue. She hesitated for a moment on the platform, almost choosing to cross to where she could enter the one headed in the opposite direction. But she didn't. They needed to talk, and she'd need to be the impetus for the conversation.

She covered the blocks to his building and then climbed the six flights, shifting her work bag from shoulder to shoulder as she ascended. Each landing provided her with the opportunity to turn around and disappear, but Liz kept going. She stopped in front of his door and exhaled. She hoped he wasn't listening. She still wasn't completely sure how the super sense thing worked. Sometimes it seemed like he required Zen-like concentration, and other times he just heard or knew or perceived or whatever. Hopefully he was a least partially distracted, at least for another few seconds as she collected her courage and willed her heart to slow its staccato serenade of her inner ear. She inhaled a gigantic breath, and then she knocked.

"Just a minute." The terse reply came from a voice deep inside the apartment. Then thirty to forty seconds later, with the clamor of crutches approaching the door and the peep hole that she realized provided him very little information. "Who's there?"

"It's me. It's Liz."

"Okay," he decided. "Hold on."

She started to ask if he was sure, but she wasn't sure that it mattered. She needed to see him. He opened the door and stood there for a minute, not certain what to say. She decided on silence herself. She'd exerted nearly all the effort to make this dialogue happen in the first place. He could make the second move.

"Are you coming in?"

"Yeah."

He backed awkwardly out of her way, misjudging the distance and hitting the back of his head against the wall in his attempt to allow her admittance to the apartment. He bit his lip, but a little groan escaped, nonetheless.

"Matt! Are you okay?" She rushed toward him.

"Just tired," he sighed, slowly righting himself.

She reached for his shoulder, stopping her hand midair, just short of touching it. "Can I?" she asked.

He rallied, pulled himself up to his full height and swung the crutches into ready position. "I can manage, thanks," he replied, a decidedly cold edge to his voice. "After you."

She started to say something about his stubbornness but instead swallowed it as she nodded and pivoted herself in the direction of the living room. When she arrived, she ignored his cocoon on the couch and sat in an armchair across from where he'd clearly been sleeping.

"Would you like something to drink?" he inquired as he approached the sitting room.

"No. I won't stay long. I smell like hospital." If she could notice it, he definitely could.

Matt wrinkled his nose. "And subway."

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "Occupational hazard." She wasn't sure if he meant hers or his. Either way. He found the couch and sat. "Did you need something?"

He appeared exhausted, dark circles ringing his eyes. She almost stated that she'd come back another time, although she wasn't sure that she would. It was now or never. "We should talk."

He leaned back against the couch cushion. "I'm not sure that I want to."

"Will you listen, then?"

He pondered this before offering an almost imperceptible nod. She exhaled with relief. "I'm sorry that what I said upset you, but I'm not sorry I said it, and I'm not taking it back."

"Okay," he grunted, eyes closed, face turned toward the ceiling, as though this exchange was causing Matt as much discomfort as his surgery.

Liz tried to pay little attention to his posture. He needed to hear what she had to say, and as long as he was awake, he could stand on his head if he wanted. She lowered her voice, injecting as much veracity as she could muster in the next statement, maybe the most imperative she'd ever uttered. "Every part of who you are is attractive to me, Matt."

His head swiveled forward, eyes open. "Even…that night?" He stumbled over his words, only managing to verbalize the three.

She shrugged. "First impressions, I guess."

"Of me bleeding on the couch? Yes. Irresistible." Matt rolled his eyes before he turned absently toward the window.

She stood and walked across to where he sat. She wiggled in beside him, pushing a silk sheet and satin trimmed chenille blanket aside. "Yes."

He turned his face to a neutral position, not yet willing to face her. "Come on, Liz. There's no way that's true."

She settled back and crossed her legs. "Okay, then what part of you should I ignore? Should it be the fact that you're blind, but you have four amazing senses that allow you to help your neighbors in a way that makes a real difference in a corrupt city? And maybe it's me, but I don't think you're going out there for glory seeing as you wear a mask, and it's clearly not for your health. I think that maybe you go because you understand what it feels like to be relegated to the margins by society's ignorance and misconceptions. So that gives you a sense of need to protect those who can't protect themselves. Would you suggest I overlook that?"

She shrugged. "Or maybe it's just who you've always been. I don't many kids who would have thought to do what you did." Matt's eyes widened as he finally turned toward her, emitting a little surprised squeak as she continued. "I know all about that, too. And maybe you didn't think about what happened that day. Probably you didn't. And honestly, if that's all I ever knew about you, it would be enough. But I know more, Matt.

"I know about Landman and Zack. I know how you brought down Fisk and dismantled his network, and how you haven't left Hell's Kitchen to fend for itself even though he's off the streets because your city isn't fixed yet. I know a lot about you, Matt. And it's really fucking attractive. Even in light of how goddamned stupid you can be."

He blinked, his eyes trained on her, straining to perceive as much of her profile as possible, his senses hyper concentrated on deciphering her form using the air currents swirling around her. "I thought…I just…I didn't…" he stammered.

"I know." She placed her hand on his left leg. "You didn't let me explain before you shooed me out the door half-naked."

"I'm sorry. I'm used to being underestimated," he managed after a moment or two of silence.

Liz pulled in a deep breath and exhaled before she spoke again. "So am I. But my eyes are open, Matt. I'm not some blushing ingénue. Let me love you, or at least figure out if I want to."

He leaned forward, balled fists pressing against his forehead as his elbows rested on his knees. "It's too hard. It's too much."

"You don't get to decide that, Matt." She moved her hand from his thigh and slid her fingers between his, finding the palm of his clenched hand and coaxing him to release the tension in his fingers as she pulled his upper body toward hers. "Not on your own."

His forehead found its resting place against hers as he respired a shaky breath. "Okay."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ah, this turned out mostly fluff and filler, but it's what came out. Perhaps plot to follow... Thanks for reading!

* * *

Chapter 10

The birds woke him, and Matt found himself wrapped up in Liz. He nuzzled his forehead against the back of her neck. "Hey."

She sighed as she burrowed into the sheets and closer to him. "Can we keep doing that?"

He exhaled a low chuckle. "Sure." His arms tightened around her. "Now?"

She turned so she was facing him, their noses nearly touching. "Depends. What time is it?"

"Not sure. Somewhere around 5 or 6?"

She reached across him and smacked the talking alarm clock.

"5:45 AM, 5:45 AM, 5:45 AM," it squawked.

Liz pulled a pillow around her head as she rolled toward the edge of the bed. "Does she also think you're deaf?"

"Apparently. Where are you going?"

"Shower." She sat up. "Work. Blah, blah, blah."

He grabbed her hand. "Stay in bed."

"Someone around here needs to work," she pointed out as she stood.

"Ouch. That hurts," he joked. "But yeah. Okay. Get out of here. Bring home the bacon."

"Foggy will eat it," she decided with a chortle.

"Nah, I'd put up a fight for that." He grinned with a wink. "Atkins."

Liz looked down where Matt still held her hand. She tugged him toward her. "I've gotta get going."

"I know."

She attempted to reclaim her arm. Unsuccessfully. "Thing is, I'm going to need this hand today."

He smiled. "I know."

"You can come with me as far as the shower," Liz offered.

"Yeah?" He scooted toward her side of the bed.

"If you promise not to make me late."

He stood, inhaling deeply. Her essence permeated his house now, despite her attempts with the unscented soap. He found her pheromones deliciously intoxicating. "No promises."

She retrieved the crutches, and he followed her down the hall. The shower, while longer than any solo effort, kept Liz on track for achieving an on-time arrival at work. As long as she could remained focused.

"Do you have a hairdryer?" she asked a still not dressed Matt who had collapsed back on the bed.

"I do actually." He pointed in the general direction of the bathroom. "Under the sink. Second drawer on the right."

She pulled out a nice hairdryer than she owned. "Is this for personal use?" she inquired, stepping into the bedroom.

"Sometimes. I don't especially like walking to work with frozen hair."

"Fair point." She blasted her hair with the ionized heat from the ceramic dryer. Her short tresses were dry and fluffed in a matter of minutes.

"So, dinner tonight?" Matt queried when Liz returned to finish dressing.

"Sure. But somewhere other than here, maybe?"

"You wanna take this to the streets?" He nodded. "I get that."

She pulled on yesterday's scrubs. She'd have to walk-of-shame it until she could grab clean ones at the hospital. "Or a restaurant? Or not. Whatever you think."

"No," Matt paused before continuing with a little more vigor. "No. That's good. That's what people do."

"You sure?" She crawled across the bed behind him. He leaned back against her. "Because you don't seem sure."

"No. I'm sure," he promised. "It's just been a while."

"I could wear a spandex suit if that helps," she crooned, her lips so close to his ear he had shuddered as she spoke.

He turned to pull her back into his arms. "Maybe later," he managed.

"Right." Her lips brushed his. "But now, I have to use my powers for good rather than evil."

"Hey! Are you implying that I'm the embodiment of evil?"

"If the armor-reinforced suit fits…" she teased.

He pushed her off his lap and onto the bed, although he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "Go to work."

"Again." She reached over and caressed his jaw. He hadn't bothered to shave. She loved the prickle of his burgeoning beard beneath her fingertips. "Someone has to."

He kissed her again, sucking on her bottom lip before he released it. "See you tonight. I'll make a reservation and send you the details. Okay?"

"Sounds great," she stood, reluctantly. "My shift ends at 7, so 8 or even a little later?"

"Yeah. Okay. I'll take care of things." Even as he said it, he realized what a welcome change that would be, taking care of something. Anything.

Liz smiled as she kissed him again. "Have a good day."

"You too. Call me if you get a break."

"Unlikely, but sure." She squeezed his hand, and then she was gone.

Matt lay on the bed for a little while longer before he finished dressing. Then, he made a pot of coffee and some toast. He sat at the table, lost in thought or daydream or whatever when Foggy arrived.

"Hey Buddy, ready for round 2?" the other man asked as he poured Matt's coffee into his own travel mug.

"More like 1.5, isn't it?"

"True," Foggy agreed with the nod of the head. "How you feeling?"

"Fine. Hoping I'll make it a little longer today," Matt clipped.

Foggy's hands rested on Matt's shoulders. "It's okay if you don't. You get more done in four hours than I do in two days most times."

"Yeah. Listen, I need a dinner reservation for tonight."

Foggy grabbed the chair to Matt's left and rested his elbows on the table, rapt with attention. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded slowly. "It's been a little while since I've taken a girl out like that." He and Elektra hadn't really had a restaurant-going relationship, "But I'm assuming you and Karen have been, uh, hitting the town every now and then."

"We make the same salary, Matt. Although calling it a salary would be a stretch, but yeah. Occasionally."

"Doesn't need to be anything fancy," Matt clarified.

"Definitely. We have a couple places that we like. I'll ask Karen as soon as we get to the office."

"Thanks. For everything. Foggy, seriously."

"It's nothing," Foggy deflected with a hand on Matt's arm.

"No," Matt sobered. "All this is above and beyond."

Foggy shrugged. "It's okay. You'd do the same for me."

"I'd try," Matt decided with a bob of his head, "But you're better at this than I fear I would be."

"Well, then it's a good think that the universe conspired to make you the superhero and me the trusty sidekick."

Matt's demeanor darkened at the mention of his other life. "Yeah. All for the best, I'm sure."

Foggy squeezed Matt's forearm. "Hey. We're good. And I appreciate this. What you just said. And you're welcome. You're always welcome."

Matt turned to face Foggy, fixing his eyes where Foggy's should be. "And I'm always thankful. Even when I forget to say it. Even when I don't say it."

"I know, Matty." Foggy paused, not sure where to go from here. Instead he stood. "But we've got the Davises at 9. You ready to go?"

Matt rose to meet his friend and accepted the crutches. "As I'll ever be."

Matt navigated the morning without a hiccup. Karen knocked on his door around 11:30, interrupting what had proven to be a productive hour. "Come in."

"I made you a reservation for 8:30 tonight at a new little place Foggy and I like. It's quiet and intimate, but not too intimate." He knew she was blushing, her heartbeat quickened and he felt the heat radiating from her. She laughed nervously, pushing her hair behind her ear. "If that makes any sense."

"It sounds perfect. Thanks." He handed his phone to Karen. "Can you send Liz the info?"

He'd never done anything, asked for anything like that before. "A-a-are you s-s-s-sure?" Karen stuttered, stumbling over the words.

"She programmed her number in, I think."

Karen scrolled through the contacts. "Yeah. Here it is." She held the phone out to him.

"It's just faster if you text her."

"Okay," she still sounded apprehensive.

"I'm swallowing my pride today, Karen," he reported, his tone completely matter-of-fact.

"Okay." The word felt surer this time she said it. "I like her."

"I do, too," Matt confessed. "And she likes you."

"We should do the foursome thing again, now that it's all settled or whatever."

"I think it's far from settled," sighed Matt. He knew full well dinner and sex did not a long-term relationship make. "But yeah. That would be nice."

"Oh!" Karen exclaimed. "I almost forgot. Dr. Stotler's office called. You have an appointment next Tuesday."

He assumed that meant Jim. There had been a dearth of surnames recently. "They called here?"

Karen shrugged. "I guess Foggy gave them this number."

Sure. Why not? "When is it?"

"Tuesday at 2."

Matt nodded, making a mental note. "Remind me on Monday? And Tuesday morning."

"Sure. You need anything now?"

"I'm all set. Thanks."

"Lunch?"

He inhaled with purpose. No packed lunches in the vicinity. "Are you ordering in or going out?"

"We hadn't decided yet. Did you have something in mind?"

"I'm not really that hungry." The toast this morning had tasted like sawdust and still sat in his stomach like a rock. He wasn't sure why, because when not attached to food, scent and taste continued to function normally. Well, not normally, but as usual. He just still hadn't recovered his appetite.

"Still? You have to eat something, Matt."

"I know."

"Does ANYTHING sound good? I'll do whatever I can to find it. It's New York City for goodness sake. The options are endless!"

Matt smiled but held out. "That's sweet, Karen, really. But no. I'll be fine."

Foggy walked in about the same time, as he returned from filing a brief. "Who called this meeting?"

Matt called up a little smirk at the memory of the correct answer. "Yes he did."

"What?" Karen glanced from one man to the other.

"Nothing," Matt waved his hand. "It's based on the old Abbot and Costello bit."

"Right." Karen nodded as she crossed to Foggy and linked her arm with his. "We were just talking about what we should do for lunch."

"Lunch? Yeah? Matt?" Foggy inquired in one-word sentences.

"Sure," the injured man relented. "Just get me whatever you guys are having." He'd pick around at it to make them feel better.

Karen jumped up to grab some delivery menus.

"You gonna hang around this afternoon?" Foggy asked as he sat on the edge of Matt's desk.

Matt rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed to finish reading through the transcript of the trial from an assault and battery verdict whose appeal they had agreed to argue. "I thought I'd give it a shot. For a while, anyway."

"Yeah, but don't overdo it, okay?"

He realized Foggy would enforce this condition. Still he decided to push his luck. "Right. I might rest my eyes for a little bit, though."

"Go home, Matt," pleaded Foggy.

"Please don't make me go back there. I'm dying of boredom. I can take a nap here. Just close the blinds so no one can see," he reasoned. "There are blinds, aren't there?"

"There are."

Matt lifted his left leg from its perch on a chair. "I'm elevating it and everything."

"Okay. I guess," Foggy finally conceded. "But you're leaving at 4. No buts."

"Okay." Matt would take it.

Matt's eye resting turned into a three hour nap. Foggy returned and roused him around 3:30. Matt's fingers flew to the face of his watch. "I've got 30 minutes left."

"I think you're done, Matt. You've been asleep all afternoon."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that's a valid point." He yawned and stretched before he reached toward his laptop. "I should finish this, though."

Foggy closed the lid of the computer before Matt's hands made it to the Braille reader keypad. "You're done for today, man. Home. Now."

"But I'm awake now," Matt pointed out, although even to his own ears the protest sounded anemic.

"Get some air, then," his friend suggested.

He sighed. "I don't mean to be dead weight, Foggy."

Foggy placed his hand on Matt's forearm. "It's fine. We're good. It would be better to have a few hours of good work from you than a full day of crap. Right?"

This didn't satisfy Matt. "Yeah. I guess, but we have four cases going to trial and two in discovery, not to mention this appeal, which is not straightforward. That's too much for you to do on your own."

Foggy waved him off before he replaced his hand on Matt's arm. "You'd pick up the slack for me if the roles were reversed. Plus, Karen's been a big help."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. She's great. Really amazing." Matt chuckled but Foggy continued. "No, I'm serious. I couldn't do this without her. We couldn't do this without her."

"Oh. Okay." He knew Karen had been helpful, but it sounded like she'd made herself indispensable to the firm, and to Foggy.

"And I'm not saying this because of what's going on between her and me, but we need to pay her more," proposed Foggy.

Matt's brow furrowed. "Have you run the numbers?"

"Yeah. And if we both took a 1% decrease from the billable take-home we could give her a 5% raise."

Matt nodded. He would give Foggy this one. "Whatever you think."

"Can you swing that? I know we aren't exactly rolling in it, but I think we need to do this."

"I'm fine," Matt reassured. "Don't worry about me."

"Right." Foggy laughed, hardly assured.

Matt shot him a grin with a sad shake of his head. "Don't worry about my finances. How about that?"

"Our crappy health insurance has a three thousand dollar deductible."

"I'm fine, Foggy," Matt promised. "In most every sense of the word. Really."

"Okay. I'll back off a little." He looked his friend up and down, cuts and bruises still healing on his face, leg encased in a shiny black cast. "At least, I'll try."

"I'll believe it when I see it," sniggered Matt.

"Jesus, Matt. Just let me look out for you for a little bit," begged Foggy. "I need to feel like I contribute something to this relationship."

"I let Karen send a text for me earlier." Matt revealed. "Isn't that enough help for one day?"

Foggy's big hand gently clapped Matt's shoulder on his uninjured right side. "I guess it is. Now please go home and get ready for your date."

"I have more than four hours before that." Matt's phone rang at that moment. "Saved by the bell…" He winked as he tapped the screen. Foggy stood to give him some privacy, seeing Liz's name flashing as Matt answered. "Hello?"

"Hi." Her voice greeted him. "You said to call when I had a minute, and I did. Is this an okay time?"

"It's great. I was just getting ready to head home."

"Everything okay?"

Matt blew out a quick breath that ended in a little chuckle. "I took a three hour nap and Foggy is kicking me out."

He could almost feel Liz's face erupting in to a smile. "Smart man, that Foggy."

"I feel like maybe he's overreacting a little."

"Go home!" Liz urged. "Doctor's orders."

"You're not my doctor," Matt astutely pointed out.

"No, but even from here, it sounds like a good idea." Liz was absolutely Team Foggy on this one.

"Do I sound that bad?"

Liz let out a warm and melodic burst of laughter. "No. But I know you're not back to full speed yet."

"Well, obviously."

"And full speed for you is like Mach 3 for everyone else, so I guess that's not too surprising," she added.

Now Matt smiled. She just got him, somehow. "Right. I guess I keep forgetting that."

"I know. That's why I'm reminding you."

"Should I pick you up tonight?" he asked, their conversation energizing him as he looked forward to her company.

"How about we meet at your place? It's closer to the restaurant than mine, and I can stop and pick up a few things from home on the way."

"Okay." He answered hopefully, assuming that meant she'd be staying.

"I'll be there around 8, if that works for you."

"Sounds perfect."

"Go home, Matt." Her tone took a more serious note now.

"Yeah, okay." He finally gave in. "See you tonight."

"Okay. Gotta go save some lives."

"I have a feeling you're not kidding about that."

Liz laughed once more before she rung off. "See you tonight, Matt."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"This is really good, Matt. Is yours okay? You've taken about three bites." Her hand quieted his.

He'd pushed his burger back and forth across the plate throughout the entire dinner. The "place" Karen had chosen was an upscale diner with a line around the block, even when they arrived at 8:15 on a Tuesday.

"No, it's fine."

"How about a milkshake? It says they come with homemade cotton candy. That could be interesting," Liz suggested. He'd lost weight over the past week, and she was also about three breaths away from force feeding him, just like everyone else.

"Maybe." Matt rubbed his temples.

"You're tired."

"I slept most of the day. How could I possibly be tired?" But he was. Dead tired.

"You look a little flushed." She reached across and touched his forehead. "You feel warm."

"I'm sure it's nothing. Just a lot of walking around today."

"Do you want to go?"

"No. I'm okay. You haven't even had your milkshake yet. Or the accompanying cotton candy."

"We'll get it to go. Dessert in bed. Plus Advil."

Matt considered that. "Okay. Yeah. Is it okay if we do that?"

"Yeah, Matt. Of course. Is anything hurting?"

He wasn't sure how to explain to her that over the course of the past hour, every muscle in his body had begun screaming in aching pain. His throat burned as though razor blades scraped down his esophagus every time he swallowed. His heart beat, now increased to about 120 pumps per minute, pounded against his temporal bones as his head threatened to explode. To put it succinctly, he felt like shit. But he really didn't want to get into all of that now. "My side still aches a little, but less than before, even with the crutches. But the leg actually feels pretty good."

"Okay." That wasn't exactly what she was going for. She adjusted her approach. "Can I check you out, just look things over, when we get home?"

"Yeah," Matt agreed. "I don't wanna be laid up any longer than I have to."

Liz's cool hand caressed his cheek. "You don't feel well."

"I really don't," he confessed. "I promise it just started, though."

"Let's get the check."

He reached for his wallet. "I'm paying."

"You don't have to do that," she admonished. "This was my idea."

"I know, but I want to." He placed his hand on top of hers on the table.

She squeezed his fingers. "Thank you."

The waiter came with the bill and in a few minutes they were ready to leave. "It's a good thing we brought the chair," Matt decided as they headed toward the door with Liz pushing. "I'm a little dizzy."

"We'll be there soon." She hailed a cab and helped him into the car and then out when they arrived at his building. By the time they'd ascended in the elevator, Matt's sweat came in bullets and he shook with chills.

"Shit. I'm so sorry," he groaned as they entered the apartment, his head bowed.

"For being sick? You're crazy. People get sick. I help them get better. It's a perfect arrangement for all parties involved. Let's get you in bed, and then I'll try to figure out what's going on."

"Thanks." Matt collapsed on the bed. "I really do feel like shit," he admitted.

"What hurts?"

"That's not as helpful of a question as you might think with me. Everything is sort of off."

"Well, what's the most off?"

He took a quick inventory. "Head throbbing. Throat on fire. Achy everywhere. Oh, and I feel like I might puke."

"Okay," she rubbed his arm as she slid off the bed. "Let me get my bag and I'll be right back." She arrived at his side a moment later, flashlight in hand. "Open your mouth."

"Aaahhh."

"Ugh! That looks awful, Matt."

"It's been sort of scratchy all day, but now it just hurts." Her fingers rested on his neck, feeling up and down his jawline for any appreciable cervical lymphadenopathy. "What are you doing? That tickles." He shrugged against her hand.

"Just checking for swollen lymph nodes."

"And?"

"There are several."

"And?"

"Open again and keep your tongue out."

He opened his mouth as she swabbed his tonsils with a little plastic brush. "GAH!" he gagged. "What was that?"

"Rapid strep test. And hold still. Flu swab is next."

"Where does that one go?" he inquired, not sure that he wanted to know.

"Up your nose."

"Is that really necessary?"

"To figure out if you need medicine or not, for which I realize we'll likely need to tie you down. Uh, yes." Liz obtained the second sample and turned to add the processing solution to both swabs. She handed Matt four Advil and with a glass of water while they waited.

"How long does this take?" he asked as he simultaneously scratched his nose and swallowed the liquid-filled caplets.

"About five minutes for the strep and 15 for the flu."

"Is it even flu season? And you just carry this stuff around in your bag?"

"We've still seen a little bit here and there. And yes. It's good to be prepared." She glanced at the bedside table. "And it appears we have a verdict. It's strep."

"Seriously?"

She smoothed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "Sorry, Hon."

"Well, at least it's not the plague or worse, but don't get too close. I'm sure it's contagious."

"I'm probably fine. I'm exposed pretty much daily," Liz pointed out.

"I have no idea how I could have been. I'm guessing they gave me some antibiotics during surgery, right?"

"Oh, God!" Liz gasped. "It must have been me. I carried it in on my skin or clothes or something. You've barely been out of the house in over a week!"

"Even if that's scientifically possible, it's not your fault," Matt reasoned with her.

"It's most likely my fault."

He shrugged. "Well, the bridge is crossed. So what do I need?"

"Antibiotics. Your choices are 10 days of penicillin tablets or a shot."

"I'll take the shot," Matt decided in less than a second.

"Okay. What pharmacy do you use? I'll call it in and head down there and pick it up."

"I might fall asleep before you get back."

"You'll know when I do, though. I'll be the one with the needle."

"Don't remind me," he groaned.

She kissed him again. "I won't be long."

On her way to the pharmacy, she called Foggy.

"Hey Liz. What's up?" he asked as he answered.

"Matt has strep throat."

"Oh. Well, that explains some things." He sounded relieved. They'd all been worried that Matt hadn't seemed much better recently.

Liz understood. She'd had the same concerns. "Yeah. The nausea and decreased appetite are most likely due to the infection, at least for the past couple of days. He's febrile now and feeling like crap. I'm on the way to get some penicillin."

"You know about him and medicine, right?"

Foggy had been very explicit about Matt's aversion to and frequent unwelcome reaction to multiple medications. "This should be better than any kind of anesthesia, though. Shouldn't it?"

"It's a toss-up. He really doesn't like Benadryl. Or it doesn't like him. Or whatever."

"Okay. Well, I'm staying with him tonight. Obviously. But I do have to work in the morning, and I don't think I can get out of it. It's already a traded shift."

"I'll stop by in the morning and Karen can check on him in the afternoon. Won't he mainly just sleep?" That's what he'd been doing so far this week.

"He should. I get off at 4 tomorrow instead of 7, so that's something."

"We've done this before, Liz. Which isn't to say that we don't appreciate you being around, because we do, for sure. But we've taken care of him when he's been sick before."

Liz's felt her face turning red. Of course they had. It's not like the man had never been sick before. "Right. Sorry. I'm getting a little possessive."

"It's okay. He's magnetic. I understand that." Foggy did; he'd been taken in from the first moment they'd met.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Liz revealed. "I didn't mean to become entangled."

"I know. But these things happen, especially when Matt's involved." Foggy started to elaborate but stopped.

"What?" Liz wanted Foggy's input here.

He sighed and began slowly when he spoke again. "It isn't always like this, Liz. He'll get better, and he'll go back out there. Believe me when I tell you that it's impossible to keep him from his other life. And it's no fun wondering when he's out there and what he's doing when he is. At least I don't always know what he's doing in the middle of the night until he shows up the next day beat all to hell. But he's always chosen that over anything else, over anyone else." Foggy paused again. "I just wanted to make sure you know that before you become irreparably entrenched. You can get out now. Some of us aren't so lucky."

"Foggy."

"I don't mean that last part. I love him. I really do, but it's nerve-wracking. And I don't know exactly if it was him or them, but they never last. His relationships, I mean."

"Neither do mine," Liz pointed out. "So maybe two wrongs will make a right. I don't know, Foggy. I don't know what this is, but I hope that we'll come through as unscathed as possible. And even though that really never happens, I keep trying to hope for the best."

"Yeah," Foggy decides. "That's probably the way to go."

"I know how much you care about him, Foggy."

"It doesn't always matter," he's quick to point out.

"It does. He loves you." The depth of their relationship was obvious to anyone who saw the two of them interact. "He's just so damn stubborn."

"He's gonna get himself killed. And what am I gonna do then?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

"It's okay." Foggy sighed. "It was mostly rhetorical."

"I need to get his medicine and get back," Liz realized she'd been gone for a lot longer than she'd planned.

"Okay. Tell him…" Foggy sighed. "Actually, don't tell him anything."

"He's probably asleep."

"Be careful, Liz. He's dangerous," warned Foggy.

"I know, but I'm still going back."

"I'll check on him tomorrow," Foggy promised.

"Thanks, Foggy. Goodnight."

"Night, Liz."

Liz hurried on to the pharmacy and back to the apartment to check on the patient. "Matt?" she whispered as she reentered the bedroom.

"Liz?" He confused reply came from under the covers.

"Yeah. Sorry. Were you asleep?" she asked as she sat beside him.

"I think. It's all a little fuzzy."

She smoothed back his hair. His skin was cooler. "It's understandable. You're sick."

"I do feel a little less achy, though." Perhaps Advil wasn't the devil after all.

She rolled the vial of medicine in her hands, warming it. "This goes in your bottom. Flip over."

He did so and she drew up the viscous solution and injected it. Matt lay still, waiting to see what effect it would have on his senses as it eventually entered his bloodstream. The first sensation, after the searing sting of the needle and the burning infusion of the medicine, came in the form of a metallic taste. Not a heavy metal like iron or copper, though. Something different.

"What?" Liz asked as she watched his face contort as he tried to figure it out.

"It tastes weird."

"Okay." She wasn't sure there was anything to be done about that. "Do you feel okay? Anything else weird."

"I think I'm okay, but I'm not going to move from this position for a while until I'm sure."

"Listen, Matt, I have to work in the morning."

He raised up on his elbows. "Do you need to go now?"

She pushed him back down onto the pillow. "No. Not until the morning."

"I should brush my teeth."

"The chair's right here. Are you ready to move?"

"Yeah. Okay." His equilibrium was really screwy. Good thing he didn't plan to go flying across rooftops tonight.

Liz noted how unsteady he was as he moved into the chair. "I'm so sorry about this, Matt."

"I'll live. And hey, maybe this will be the worst thing that happens to me this week," he joked as they arrived in the bathroom.

"Maybe," she grinned. "Here's your toothbrush."

"Thanks. Did you talk to Foggy?"

"I did. Did you hear us?" She still wasn't completely clear on how all of that worked.

"I promise that I didn't even try. I just know how the two of you function, especially in regard to me."

"He'll be over sometime tomorrow morning."

"He doesn't have to do that," Matt decided as he leaned forward to spit in the sink.

"I know, but you need to let him."

"I don't need him to take care of me."

"I know that, too, but he needs to do it. Relationships require give and take."

Matt shrugged in conciliation and a maybe a bit of frustration. "I don't even have an appointment with Jim until next week. This is taking forever!"

"He said two weeks absolutely no weight bearing, and he'd see where you'll go from there," she reminded him. He really was on track as far as his foot was concerned.

"I haven't been meditating like I should be. It's always helped with healing in the past."

"How's it feeling?" Liz asked as he finished at the sink.

"Not so bad, actually. The bones feel more solid."

Liz ran her hand through his hair. "You'll be back on your feet before you know it."

"Yeah." He answered in agreement, although he sounded pretty flat.

She reached forward and kissed his neck. "You should go to bed now."

He leaned back against her. "I really should." She helped him back down the hall, and he moved over onto the bed. He reached for her. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah. I just need to grab my phone charger." She walked into the living room and rifled through her bag for a minute as she thought about where things could possibly go from here. The idea of calling Claire crossed her mind as Foggy's words replayed, looping over and over. Instead, she returned to the bedroom and climbed in beside an already snoring Matt. She wasn't leaving yet, at least not until Matt was feeling a little more like himself. Except she didn't even know what that would look like, or if there would be anything between them when he got there.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Other than Matt spending the next two days in bed, nothing much changed until the day of Matt's appointment at Jim's office the following Tuesday.

Oh, and Claire was back in town. She picked up an eight-hour shift on Tuesday, where she would encounter Liz for the first time since the entire ordeal had begun. They'd been missing one another all day, but just before Liz was stealing off to sit in on Matt's check-up, they ran into one another. They hugged quickly and Claire pulled out her phone with photos of her new niece, who had kept her busy in Virginia for the past 2 weeks. Liz fidgeted. She hated to run out, but Matt would be in the room around 2:15. She wanted to hear what Jim had to say.

Claire noticed and started to say something about Liz appearing so antsy before it hit her. Oh my God." She closed her eyes for a few seconds as the realization of the situation became clear. "You fell in love with him."

"You could have warned me." Liz moved the two of them toward the stairs.

"Did someone try to kill you, too?"

"What?" Liz stopped. "No. Did that happen to you?"

Claire pulled her into the stairwell. "It doesn't matter, but you have to understand who he is, Liz," she whispered as the door closed behind them.

"I do. At least I think I do." Liz was pretty sure she had an idea; she'd met the man when he was lying half-dead on his living room floor.

"How's his leg?"

"He has an appointment with Jim right now. He's been non weight-bearing for two weeks."

"Oh, Lord. Who's been sitting on top of him to make that happen?"

"Claire!"

"I assume you _are_ sitting on top of him. Have you seen him?"

"Sometimes and yes, respectively."

Claire placed her hand on Liz's arm. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, but I have to run up there. He's hoping at least for a walking cast." She hated sounding like a girl who only thought about the boy in her life, but Matt's life had consumed hers recently.

"Good luck!" Claire called, shaking her head as Liz bounded up the steps, two at a time.

* * *

Matt allowed Foggy to help him get to the appointment, but he went in alone. He wanted a minute with Jim. A little before 2:30, the surgeon entered the room.

"Matt. Good to see you. How are things?"

Matt extended his hand to shake Jim's. "I've been better. But I've also been worse."

Jim chuckled. "I guess that's true. I took a look at your films from today, and I have to say that I'm definitely please with what I'm seeing. The bone growth is excellent. I would feel comfortable with having you start putting some weight on it, up to 50%, in a walking boot. You're obviously an athletic guy; we want to get you back into your life." Matt could hardly contain his excitement. Jim saw this and added words of caution. "I'm going to have you start with a physical therapist, though, for some initial supervision. This is exceptional work that I've done, and I'm not having you screw it up."

"Sure, that's fine." Matt agreed with a relieved laugh. "But can it be some big hairy guy?"

Jim scowled for a second before he realized what Matt meant. His reciprocal laugh sounded pretty genuine. "Sure. We'll make sure he's neither female nor attractive."

Matt blushed, realizing it was completely out of line for him to have said this, but he wanted some more info on the doctor currently sharing his bed. Jim's vitals hadn't changed. He seemed less anxious than Matt expected. "That was out of line, and after you've gone out of your way to help me."

"Nah, it's fine. I get it; I fell for her, too." Jim realized what he'd said. "Shoot. Now the foot's in my mouth. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this."

"Can I ask one more question?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Why Steve Rogers?"

"Have you seen the guy?" A brief awkward pause followed. Jim blushed; Matt felt the warmth and could hear the slight increase in his heart rate. "Oh, right. No. Well, I'm pretty good looking; I'm not gonna lie, but Rogers is a freaking god. But I think it was more than that.

"She's cute, not a supermodel by any stretch, but you know that doesn't really matter – the way she attracts you is different from any girl I've ever met. But I never got the feeling that the thing with Rogers as much about her wanting to be with him as it was her not wanting to be with me."

"Jim. I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to talk to, except Claire, but that's basically the other side of this coin." Matt did his own blushing now. He assumed Jim knew that part of the story, too.

"Yeah." Jim helped Matt move onto the table before he turned to retrieve the cast saw. "I don't think there's any malice involved, but she changes her mind on a whim, and then that's it. Her decisions are swift and final, and it doesn't really matter who's affected around her."

"Yeah?"

"That's what I've observed, what I've experienced. I loved her, and I thought she loved me, but then she didn't anymore. And then there was no negotiation. She just moved on."

"Is that a warning?"

"Take it as whatever you need it to be. I'm guessing you've broken some hearts in your day. It's something else to be on the other side of it."

Jim didn't give Matt a chance to respond before he fired up the saw. Within a matter of minutes, Matt's ankle was free. He gingerly tested out the joints in his foot, hearing the strain of the metal gripping into and reinforcing the bones. His ankle screeched with the slightest twitch of movement. He'd have to figure out some way to ignore that, now, too. Jim's nurse came in to clean the rest of the surgical betadine as Jim inspected the healed incision.

"This looks great, Matt. You're a fast healer."

"Meditation helps," Matt admitted. He'd been much more diligent in the past week with his practice, especially since the strep throat.

"Yeah?"

"Seriously. I have to do something to keep centered."

"And that helps?"

"It does. I've been doing some form of martial arts since I was a little kid. It's good to be able to control something, you know? Even if it's just myself."

"I can understand the appeal." Jim sat across from Matt. "These past couple of weeks must have been unbearable."

"I'm not gonna lie. They haven't been good."

"Well, Matt, you're well on your way to recovery. It's going to take some time to get back to 100%, but you'll get there." He secured the boot and helped Matt off the table. Matt reached out for his crutches, and the enormity of Matt's reality hit Jim. "Oh shit. I didn't even think. How are you doing this? How are you getting around?"

"It has to be hard to watch," Matt acknowledged.

"Not that, but how are you not breaking your neck?"

"I use the chair going any sort of distances or when I'm out of my house or the office or anywhere that I don't know the layout. That's pretty much how I've kept my teeth unchipped and in my head." Matt smiled, showing the perfect white rows. "But things are definitely looking up."

"We'll get you back in fighting shape."

"That's exactly what I need, Jim," Matt admitted, knowing Jim had no idea how close to the truth he was hitting right now.

"Okay. Your partner in crime is right outside the door. I'll see you back in about two weeks; just check out with Linda up front. She'll also get you set up with PT."

Matt held out his hand again. "Thanks, Jim. This could have been really weird."

Jim shook. "It's still a little weird, but you seem like an okay guy."

"Well, you seem like a really great one, so thanks."

"It's what I do. See you in a couple of weeks."

Foggy entered the room with the wheelchair just as Liz arrived. "Did I miss it?"

"Just finished up. Everything looks good, apparently. I have to make a follow up for 2 weeks and get set up for physical therapy."

"Wow." She steadied him as he tested putting a little weight on his foot as he moved into the wheelchair. "Was that okay?"

"It wasn't awesome," he grunted through gritted teeth.

"It'll get better. You're already so much better."

Matt nodded. He couldn't argue; he was clearly getting better. But he needed recovery to go faster. "Let's get out of here."

Foggy, who'd faded into the wall in an attempt to pretending he wasn't intruding now moved to Matt's side and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You ready, Matt?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

After scheduling Matt's appointments to fit in either Foggy or Karen or Liz's schedule, they turned to the patient for the next move. Matt didn't want to admit it, but he was exhausted. He'd been at the office for over a week now, but he still napped most afternoons before Foggy sent him home between 3 and 4.

"Where now, Matty?" Foggy inquired, hoping the other man would concede defeat for the day.

"Home, I guess," he acquiesced.

"I have to go back downstairs," Liz stated as they headed for the elevator. "But I'll be done at 7."

"That's good," Matt decided. "It will give me time to get a nap in."

"Yeah?"

Matt heard the relief in her voice and the subtle slowing of her pulse. He smiled as he reached for her hand. "Absolutely. I'll be good as new when you get off. We could try dinner out again?"

Liz reached down and kissed him again. "Not tonight. I'll bring something."

He shook his head firmly. "No! I'll cook. Or figure something out."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I'll have plenty of time to nap for a bit and still get dinner together. You guys have been on double speed taking care of me. Let me do this."

Liz shot a look at Foggy, who nodded just slightly. "Okay." She kissed him a third time. "See you a little before 8, then." She smiled at Foggy and then she was gone.

Matt settled back into the chair. "Yeah," he whispered to her disappearing form. He twisted in the seat a little until he was almost facing his friend. "Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I had hoped to complete this before Season 2, but that didn't happen. Maybe one more before the end. But I'm not really sure if anyone's still reading with any purpose, anyway, so I'll just keep on going.

* * *

Chapter 13

Matt almost sailed through physical therapy, and each little bit of freedom won created an increasing space between him and Liz. Neither was terribly surprised – they both had lives separate from one another and continue to live them. Claire had warned her about him and about what would inevitably come next, but Liz still sat flabbergasted, glued to his couch when he announced he was going back out.

"It's only been eight weeks since you started therapy."

Matt didn't stop his idle tidying of the room. He needed to move. "Jim cleared me to return to full activity this afternoon."

"Jim doesn't know the half of what that means. He cleared you to jog on a treadmill or take karate classes. He has no idea the extent of what you consider normal activity."

He moved into the kitchen and began rinsing glasses in the sink. "I know my body, Liz. I'm healed. I'm ready."

She stood and approached the island, facing him. "Maybe your leg is ready, but what about the rest of you. Where is your head?"

"Ready to get out of here and back out there. I'm more focused. I've gone a couple of times – not in uniform, but just spent the evenings with an ear to the pavement to find out what's going on."

"Matt."

"I've let you and Foggy keep me in this bubble of complacency for as long as I can let that happen. I need to go back out."

"And there's nothing I can say that will stop you."

"No. I can't imagine that there is."

Liz nodded. "Well. Then I guess your evenings will be otherwise occupied."

He raised his hand from the sink, somewhat toward her for a second, and then he dropped both hands to the counter and hung his head between his shoulders. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Well, I'm not sitting her and waiting for you to crash through the skylight in a million pieces for me to try to put back together."

He regrouped, moving around to where she stood. "That's not what I'm saying either."

She backed up by two steps. "I need to think things over. Okay?"

He nodded, scratching above his eyebrow as he answered. "Yeah. I understand."

"I should go," she decided, suddenly unable to budge from her spot.

He moved closer and took her hand, seemingly oblivious to her sudden paralysis. "Let's talk soon, though."

"Hmm." She couldn't make words exit her head and make it to her tongue, either.

He kissed her, letting his fingers trail through her hair, and suddenly she needed to move, too.

* * *

Three weeks later, she hadn't called and neither had he. She'd seen him, or a version of him, in the papers and on the news. He'd needed Claire's services twice in that time. She fessed up when Liz eventually asked but didn't provide much detail, other than to say that he was okay. Liz nodded and pretended that she didn't care or think about him or fall asleep with her phone in hopes that his distress call would wake her again. But she understood her role when she first took it, and it hadn't changed. She was a place filler. For Claire, for the city. He wasn't going to call.

About the time that Liz felt she fully comprehended this, she came to another, more unexpected realization. She contemplated her own course of action over the next three or four days before she decided exactly what he needed to know. She decided that a read-in fell within his rights, even though she doubted it would change anything.

She texted him when she felt certain he'd be out. For some reason, though, he was free. He said he'd come to her. Half an hour later he buzzed, and she opened the door, suddenly very anxious and not at all sure about any of this.

"Hey, Matt."

Liz opened the door and stood before him, her heart pounding out one hundred beats per minute. But there was another heartbeat, quick as a hummingbird wing fluttering, beside her or with her. Or in her?

Matt stepped inside, allowing her to close the door behind him. He squinted as he attempted to get the situation straight in his head. "You're not alone. Who's here with you?"

Liz sighed as she perched herself on the edge of the couch. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Matt's perplexed expression melted and his eyes widened as he comprehended what had transpired. "You're sure?"

"I heard the heartbeat yesterday. And I'm guessing you did just now."

Matt moved out of the doorway and slumped into the closest armchair. "Yeah."

"So you mean: Am I sure it's yours?"

"That's not…" Matt protested, although a little too anemically. "That's not exactly what I meant. Only partly," he conceded.

Liz got up from her seat and walked toward him. She waited just a moment or two until he pulled her close so that his ear rested against her stomach.

Her fingers dug into his hair. "Matt."

He released her and stood, angling his body away from hers. "I can't be a father."

She dropped to the arm of the chair he'd just vacated. "I understand that. I do. But I wanted to give you the option, or at least, the pertinent information."

Silence descended upon the room. Matt sat back down adjacent to Liz and placed his hand on her leg. They sat there for a while.

"I have some money," he whispered some time later.

"This isn't about that. I'm fine. _We'll_ be fine," she assured him.

"I thought we were careful."

"We weren't as careful as we could have been. There's only one absolute in that department, anyway."

The nuns had definitely belabored that point, obviously to no avail. "Right. So what now?"

"You've been pretty clear about what you want for your life."

"Liz."

She stopped whatever thought he was trying to have. "It's fine. Like I said, I'm not expecting anything from you. I just wanted you to know. And maybe that was selfish of me, but I honestly didn't anticipate this changing anything between us."

"Well, maybe it should. I mean, I could…"

"Matt," she interrupted again. "You have to decide whether or not you continue to live this life. It can't be something that I or even our child can guilt you into. That won't ever work."

"I guess not." He stood. "I should go." Although his head was spinning, he surveyed room around him more completely. "Wait. You're packing. Why are you packing?"

"I have a job offer in Starling City, or Star City, I guess they're calling it now."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Oliver Queen is an old friend. He contacted me last year about this opportunity. I turned him down then, but I've been thinking about it more and more. And this seems like the right time."

"So you're putting the country between us?"

She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I'm from the West Coast. The whole New York thing just sort of happened, and then I just stayed. Maybe I need a change of pace or scenery."

"Or Oliver Queen."

"He's an old friend. Plus, he's married. Or engaged or something."

"I feel certain that's never stopped him before."

"So we're gonna sit here and talk about Oliver Queen?"

"If it keeps us from talking about you leaving."

She reached for his hand. "Matt. Stop. We've moved past that."

"Let's revisit that subject, please." He sat back down beside her, their fingers still interwoven.

She reached up and touched the side of his face with her other hand. "I'm not asking you to choose because I don't want to make you do what you don't want to do, and I don't want you to lie to me."

"Liz."

She patted his cheek. "You should go."

His hands overlapped hers. "Can I stay?"

Their foreheads touched, and she closed her eyes, taking in his distinctively masculine essence. "I don't think it's a good idea."

His eyelashes brushed against her cheek. "Please."

She pulled back from him and stood. "I can't do this again, Matt. I need a clean break."

His body followed hers. "Tomorrow. We'll break tomorrow."

"But what if I'm already broken?"

His arms pulled her close to his chest. "Oh, Liz."

Her palm rested on his sternum as she extended her arm, pushing him gently away. "You should go."

"I'm sorry." His hands dropped helplessly to his sides.

She maintained the distance between the two of them. "I know you are, but I still need you to go."

He stepped forward and kissed her forehead. "I'll call you."

"Sure." She tried to sound nonchalant. She thought she almost pulled it off.

* * *

Once Matt hit the street he called Foggy. "Can you meet me at Josie's?"

"Now?"

"It's important."

"Okay."

Foggy had a bottle of Red Stripe waiting on him when he made it to the bar. Matt plopped his bottom on the tattered stool beside and filled his friend in on the last hour.

Foggy opened and closed his mouth about three times before he spoke. "Wow. I mean, I guess I'm most surprised that this is the first time. That you know about, I guess. I mean, how Catholic are you?"

Matt took a long drink. "Not _that_ Catholic."

"Right. So when did this happen?" Foggy started counting off the weeks on his fingers.

"We're not discussing the specifics of my sex life. With Liz or anyone else. But yeah, I guess I had my guard down."

"So you were kinda Catholic?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "And just so you don't feel the need to ask the question that everyone always thinks they should ask but should also feel like a dick for actually asking, there's a baby. I heard it."

"Wow." Foggy repeated. It was a lot to take in.

"And she took a job working for Oliver Queen in Star City."

"She what?"

Matt's fingers drummed against the bar. "You heard me."

"When's she going?"

"She was packing tonight."

Foggy grabbed his arm. "Matt!"

"You know what she wants."

"She asked you to give it up?"

"No. She said she didn't want to make me lie to her."

Foggy realized he was still holding Matt's arm and released it. "Ouch."

"Yeah." Matt finished his beer as Josie stepped in front of them.

"Somethin' else for you, Matty?"

"Macallan neat, Josie?" She slid him a glass. "Thanks."

Foggy waited until she moved on before he spoke again. "So what are you gonna do?"

Matt sipped his drink. "I don't know. I didn't plan this. She didn't plan this."

"Okay."

"What do you want me to say, Foggy? I don't want her to go. I'd like us to have a chance, but I know what she needs from me. And I don't know that I can give her that."

"I don't want to sound like a broken record here, Buddy."

"Then don't. Just don't. Just sit here and drink with me."

Foggy nodded and motioned to Matt's glass and held up two fingers to Josie. "Okay."

* * *

Foggy woke first with Matt's knee poking him at an unfriendly angle. "Morning, Sunshine," he greeted with a firm but friendly shove in Matt's direction.

The other man stretched his arms over his head as he rolled away from Foggy. "We gotta stop sleeping in the same bed. People are gonna get the wrong idea."

"You know you love me, and I hate your couch."

"The couch is nice."

"And people are a lot more open-minded these days about sleeping arrangements. And I don't want to get up yet. It's only 6 am. And it's Saturday. I just needed you to move."

Matt swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Well I'm moving. I've got a lot to do today."

"But it's Saturday," protested Foggy.

"I need to talk to her." Matt started toward the bathroom.

Foggy called after him. "What are you going to say?"

"I don't know. Ask for a compromise of some sort, I guess."

"Matt."

He reappeared with his toothbrush in hand. "I can't give her what she wants, not completely."

"You can. You just won't."

"You know it's more complicated than that."

"It doesn't have to be. Stop complicating things for yourself. Let the police do the policing!"

"We're not having this conversation, Foggy." Matt grabbed his hoodie from the floor beside the bed. "You want coffee?"

"Do you have coffee?"

"No," Matt confirmed as he headed into the living room.

Foggy jumped up to follow. Matt had already found his shoes. "Where are you going?"

"West 74th. I need to talk to her."

"Are you sure she isn't working?"

"If she is, then I'll go there."

"Well, I'm coming with you."

Matt paused halfway to the door. "We smell bad."

"Showers first?"

"Quickly."

* * *

A little after seven, the two exited a cab on Central Park West and turned down 74th street. When they arrived at the awning of Number Ten, Matt exhaled deeply. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Foggy reckoned he looked more rattled than their first time in front of a jury.

"Just maybe wait out here for a minute," Matt decided as he wiped his hands on his pants.

"What are you going to say?"

"I'm not sure yet," Matt revealed just before he pressed the buzzer. He shot Foggy a shaky grin as the door clicked open. "Wish me luck."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I've revised this one several times, but I think I like what I ended up with here. I definitely appreciate your reads, follows, and favorites. You're always welcome to tell me what you think - even if you don't like it.

* * *

Chapter 14

"Matt." Liz backed away from the door. "Come in."

He moved inside and folded the cane. "I meant to bring coffee."

"I'm not supposed to drink caffeine."

"Oh. Right." This wasn't starting off well.

Liz sighed. "You might as well sit."

"Or do you want to walk? It's nice out."

"Sure. Give me a minute." She disappeared down the hall to grab a coat and some shoes.

"Foggy's outside. Should I send him away?"

"It would be creepy if he followed us," she reasoned as she returned to the living room.

Matt pulled his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and let Foggy know to stand down before he took Liz's arm.

She leaned against his shoulder. "Strawberry Fields?" Matt nodded. The destination came as no surprise; they'd stopped by often during the afternoons and evenings they spent killing time during Matt's recovery.

They stopped for coffee down the street from Liz's apartment before they approached the park. When they arrived, Liz directed them to the benches near the mosaic where they sat facing the Dakota. She sipped her coffee. "I did a little research after you left last night."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "What kind of research?"

"I Googled her."

"Elektra?"

Liz nodded. "I wanted to know what I'm up against." Matt started to speak, but her hand on his wrist stopped him. "I don't mean that literally, but I wanted to see who she was and how whoever she was fit in your life."

"And what did you come up with?"

"Seems like it was complicated."

Matt scoffed. "That's maybe the understatement of the century."

Liz pushed forward. "But I can see some of why the two of you worked."

"Some things worked. Some didn't. Our philosophies on how to do what we do weren't always congruent. She hurt people – needlessly at times. She advocated vigilante justice; I don't agree with either of those things." Liz didn't respond, so Matt continued. "You know I believe in our justice system. I work within the law when at all possible. I defended Frank Castle and turned Wilson Fisk over to the police when I could have killed him in the street." He clenched his hands into fists to hide their shaking. "I've never wanted or tried to be judge, jury, and executioner. Never."

Liz spoke calmly, her hand still on his wrist. "You believe that violence is a solution to the problems our society faces, or at least a means to an end."

Matt struggled to keep his voice low and even. "With violent people intent on hurting and killing others? Yes. You're goddamned right that I do. It's the only solution these people I've come up against will ever understand. And if you or Foggy or Karen or Claire found yourselves the target of one of these people, I can't promise that I wouldn't overlook my rules – the ones that keep me sane, that keep me human."

"Matt."

"I know you're a healer. I know you patch these guys up so they can go back out there the next time, even when they're shooting at you."

"That's not fair."

"But it's true."

"I also believe in our justice system. Are you telling me I shouldn't?"

Matt sighed. "I'm telling you that not everyone play by the rules. I'm sure your boy Oliver understands that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I did some research last night, too. Only not on Google."

"Oh. I assumed you got drunk with Foggy last night. Hence his chaperoning your trip uptown this morning."

"I can multitask, but that's not the point. This guy is a shit magnet. Bad things happen to the people in his life. And I'm about 90% certain he's The Arrow."

Liz shook her head. "The Arrow is dead."

"He's calling himself the Green Arrow now. My sources say it's all the same thing."

"You look that up in the Vigilante Times?"

She sounded annoyed, but Matt didn't back down. "Something like that."

She released his hand. "I'll steer clear."

Matt turned toward Liz and reached for her hand, taking it back in his. "Do more than that. Stay here."

"With the vigilante I know?"

He tried to hide his grin at her snark, but he couldn't stifle a little scoff of a laugh. "Yeah. Something like that."

Liz felt herself softening. Her fingers caressed the edge of his face. "I don't know, Matt."

Her hesitation offered him hope. He jumped at this opportunity. "That means you've thought about it, that it could work. It _could_ work."

He was right. She had considered a few options that would allow them to stay together. She leaned toward him. "There would have to be changes. You'd have to cut back."

"I'd be willing to try." He slid his arm along the back of the bench so that it wrapped casually around her as he considered all that would entail. He couldn't assure her that his other life wouldn't encroach on anything they'd be building together. "There are some people from my past who think I still owe them something. I can't promise that I won't have to settle up with them from time to time."

She expected as much. "I don't know, Matt. From what little bit I do know about you, I just don't think I could ever win out over that. I don't know that I even want to try to compete."

"Maybe just think about it a little longer."

"I have to go. I signed a contract."

"Break it. I can get you out of it."

She stood up and moved in front of him. "Just let me think."

"That's all I'm asking." He reached for her and she moved between his legs, his arms extended to encircle her waist.

"That's not all you've asked."

He pulled her onto his lap before he spoke. "I'll take it, though."

"Will you?"

"Of course."

Her head rested against his. "Would you consider coming with me?"

He pulled back from her, his response coming out a little more surprised than he had intended. "What?"

"It's another option."

"I can't just abandon this place."

"Maybe you could just consider the offer," she offered in an attempt at nonchalance, but her voice wavered on the edge of pleading.

"I don't see how…" He stopped. He'd basically asked the same of her. "Yeah. Okay. I'll think about it."

She slid off of his lap and back onto her own section of the bench. "I've agreed to start in three months, but my lease is up here in a couple of weeks. I'm going to move my things and bunk with friends for the remainder of my time here."

"Stay with me."

"I didn't tell you all of this for a housing offer."

"I know, but it would give us some time to at least try things out."

"You mean maybe it will help us decide what to do?"

"Yeah. It might."

She shook her head again. "I don't know."

"I've never let anyone this far in – not even Foggy, really. I'm trying to be as open as I can be here."

Her hand rested against his chest. "I see that, and I appreciate it." She stood. "Let's get some breakfast."

"My stomach's grumbling."

"Don't need superhuman hearing to know that."

He rose to stand beside her. "I'm a bit hungover."

"I figured that one out, too. But thanks for showering. You only smell faintly of Scotch."

He unfolded his cane. "Where to?"

"You pick. You think Foggy and Karen would want to join us?"

"I'll call and see."

* * *

Liz and Karen greeted one another with hugs when the foursome arrived at the diner. Liz slid into the booth and Matt joined her. They hadn't had the chance for many meals together since the first week of Matt's injury. Karen reached across and grabbed Liz's hand once they were settled into their seats.

"It's so good to see you!"

"It's been a while," Liz conceded. "How are things at the office?"

"Well, they could be better. The Castle case took a good bit of our time and resources," Karen admitted.

Matt's arm tightened around Liz's waist. "We'll be okay, though. Right Fog?"

Foggy cleared his throat and shot a quick glance at Karen but didn't say any more before the waitress stopped beside them and filled their coffee cups. "Are you guys ready to order?"

They paused a second to give their requests before Matt repeated the gist of his previous question. "What's going on at the office, Foggy?"

"Let's talk about it later." Foggy's tone sounded evasive to Matt, as did the sudden increase in his heart rate and outbreak of sweat on his forehead.

Matt pounced. "So you're saying we're in trouble."

Foggy wiped his face with his sleeve and fanned himself with the menu on the table, suddenly overheated. He knew that Matt knew how uncomfortable he'd suddenly become. "Not now, Matt. This isn't the time or place."

"Will anything change before Monday, Foggy?" Liz asked, trying to mitigate the argument before it really started.

"No. It won't. That's why I thought we'd go over all the numbers at the office then and make some decisions."

Matt blinked, focusing his energies on reading the biofeedback of the two people sitting across from him. "Are we going under?"

"Let's talk about it at the office, Matt." Karen reached across the table and touched his hand briefly. "On Monday."

Matt scooted toward the edge of the booth. "I'm not hungry."

Liz grabbed his arm. His initial instinct was to shake her off, but she held firm. "I am, and you brought me here. You don't have to eat, but you should stay."

"I want to know what's going on with my business, my livelihood."

Foggy scoffed. "If you can honestly tell me that that Nelson and Murdock is your 'livelihood,' then we'll head to the office as soon as we've finished here and discuss everything." Matt dropped his eyes to the table and relaxed his arm, gently brushing Liz's hand away. He didn't have anything else to say. Foggy stared across the table at the man who'd been his best friend for as long as he cared to remember. He nodded, punctuating his assertion that he and Karen had become more than an afterthought to Matt at this point. "That's what I thought."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Foggy didn't stop there. "I've been holding back for weeks because you were grieving, and then you were hurt, and then I thought maybe, just maybe, you wanted to try this partnership out again. Because as you will recall, you dissolved it, or you allowed it to be dissolved without a fight."

"Foggy,"

"No, Matt. I'm not letting you do this again. Not to me, not to Karen, and hell, not to Liz. I don't even know her that well, but no enemy deserves the treatment you've afforded your so-called loved ones."

"I feel like I'm missing a good portion of the backstory here," Liz protested, not sure if she should come to Matt's defense or not. "But it also seems like we probably shouldn't discuss it here."

"No, not here," Karen pleaded. "Let's at least try to have a nice breakfast."

Foggy stood. "I'm not hungry anymore. Or I am, but I need a change of scenery. We'll get ours to go." Matt attempted to slide out of the booth, but Foggy blocked his way. "No. You're staying. We're going. We'll talk later." He shot a quick look past Matt. "Um, Liz."

She nodded and he joined Karen at the counter.

Matt placed his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "I can explain."

"You'd better start, because I just watched the two most important people in your life turn their back on you right now, and Foggy insinuated it wasn't the first time the three of you have had a major falling out."

"After the Castle case, well, actually during it, that's when Elektra came back. And Karen and I had been sort of seeing one another, no, we _were_ seeing one another, and things happened – vigilante things, but I let them down. I had to push them away, and I was convincing. When Elektra died, we weren't speaking. The night Foggy called you, that's the first time he'd been to my place in weeks. He knew I was in a bad place, and he tried to stop me from going out. Obviously I didn't listen, and after I was injured, I thought – or hoped, that he'd forgiven me. Although I didn't ask for his forgiveness or apologize, not really, for anything that I'd done that had broken us apart. And Karen, they're together now – as they should be, but I haven't apologized to her, either. I showed her the mask, but I didn't tell her that I was sorry for the problems I've caused her."

"I don't know what we're doing here Matt, how I let myself get this deeply involved. Move."

"What?"

She pushed against his arm. "Move. I'm going."

"Liz."

"Move, Matt."

Matt started to speak but realized he'd lost this battle and acquiesced. "Yeah, okay."

"I'll call you later."

"Okay."

Matt sat at the table until the remainder of the food arrived. He'd forgotten it was coming. He dropped some money on the table, hoping it was enough to cover the bill, and made his way to the door. He had no idea where to go – he was used to having Liz in his place by now, and being there without her felt decidedly empty. The office was a minefield. If Foggy wasn't there, Matt would start to relive this guilt. If he was, they'd probably fight. Again. Matt just couldn't do it today. Instead, he headed somewhere he hadn't been in a while.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been at least three months since my last confession," he started after the priest's initial greeting. He always chose his words wisely in here. "I'm letting people down."

"That's not necessarily a sin," the voice on the other side of the screen pointed out.

"No, but I could chose not to do so, and I haven't. I'm not sure that I will change that, even though I could."

"But you've not made this choice yet."

"No, but I made a bigger choice before in some ways, to do what I can to make the city a better place. You know this."

Father Lantom sighed. "I do. And while it's admirable, some could question its necessity."

Matt sighed. "I realize that."

"Evil exists, Matthew. There's nothing even you can do about that fact."

"All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

The priest sighed. "There are plenty of things that can be done without sabotaging your closest relationships. I'll match your quotation with another: 'No man is an island.'"

"This isn't helping."

"It's not a counseling session. It's to ask for absolution for your sins."

"Oh, there are plenty of those as well."

"Would you like to unburden?"

"I don't know." He didn't want to get into all of that right now.

"Then should we walk?"

"Not today. I should go."

"You're always welcome here to pray or reflect or confess."

"Thanks."

Matt exited the confessional and the church. When he hit the street, he turned south toward home. He stopped in Duane Reade to replenish his home first aid kit – he hadn't had a chance since the night on the roof and knew he had to be running low on gauze. Rather than using technology or his enhanced senses, he asked the bored-looking guy behind the register to help him find his supplies. Sometimes it was much less conspicuous to be a regular old blind guy. He thanked the salesman before checking out and continuing toward his place.

As he climbed to the loft, he began to form a plan. He spent the rest of the day cleaning up around the house, doing dishes and laundry that he'd let pile up. Once things were put in order, he retreated to the roof. He needed to clear his head, and last night's adventure at Josie's hadn't helped at all. He meditated for much of the afternoon after which he ran through some physical drills to elevate his heart rate.

There were others working to protect the streets now and not just the Avengers. He'd heard rumblings of a less flashy, more rag-tag group of people making their own noise in his neighborhood and the city beyond. Maybe he _could_ walk away, at least for a while. He'd present his idea to Liz in the morning. She wasn't working until Wednesday. So she'd likely be up packing for a while. Screw it. He'd go now.

He loved the city at night and 27 blocks was just enough time for him to put his plan into words, not unlike an opening statement. He reckoned this might be the most important speech he'd ever give. He felt he'd just about perfected it by the time he arrived. He found her buzzer, gave it a tentative press, and waited.

"Matt?" her voice crackled through the intercom, although he heard her without it.

"Can I come up?"

"Sure." Her answer came without pause and he exhaled a little as he pushed through the door and headed up.

She was waiting with the door open. "You're out late."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither."

"I figured and hoped as much. And that you'd talk to me."

"Do you want to come in?"

"Do you mind to walk instead?"

"No. Let me grab some shoes."

Matt waited by the door. She joined him, and they descended the stairs together. When they hit the street, she directed them toward the Park and Strawberry Fields. They didn't stop to sit, though, continuing across West Drive to the Lake. When they reached the water's edge, she stopped and turned, waiting for him to speak.

"Before Elektra and I went onto that roof, I had decided to go with her afterward. She was the only person I knew who understood that part of me. Being with her allowed me to be who I truly am." He paused, but she didn't say anything, so he continued. "I'll go with you. But I have to have keep that part of me alive."

"In Star City? I thought this was about Hell's Kitchen or New York."

"There's corruption and injustice and organized crime everywhere."

"I'm well aware. I patch the bad guys up so they can shoot at us again. Remember?"

Matt hung his head. "I'm just saying that if Oliver Queen is out there trying to protect his city, he might appreciate some help from time to time. And it would be less involved than what I'm doing now. It would only be on those days when I need to hit someone and get results outside the law."

"Then join a boxing gym. This Arrow is not fighting petty criminals, as you well know. It would be the same level of corruption and evil as here, maybe even more so if Oliver is involved, with the same level of danger and a family to make you vulnerable. I couldn't live with myself if I or we somehow put you in a dangerous position."

"And I feel the same about you. So I keep my identity a secret. That's the point of a secret identity, of the mask. Besides, who's going to believe it's me anyway?"

"I guess." He did have a point there.

"I can't promise you that I won't ever need to run across a rooftop. It's not just something I decided to do, it's part of who I am, and if that isn't going to work for you, then we aren't going to work."

She thought about his words for a moment before looked up at him. "Okay."

"Which okay?"

"Okay, let's try it. Talk to Oliver and see what he says. I doubt he's going to just admit that he's the vigilante, but maybe you guys have a secret handshake or something."

"I'll figure it out when and if the time comes."

She hugged herself around the middle. "I'm sorry about this."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest. "Hey, I'm pretty Catholic, so I've got enough of my own guilt."

"I know. That's why I'm sorry to add to the things you have to think about."

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. I guess I should look into a job, though."

"Do you want me to talk to Oliver?"

"That might actually work. I could feel him out."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you will anyway."

Matt grinned. "That's true. So we're doing this."

"We're doing this. But…"

Matt nodded. "I'll talk to Foggy and try to fix things the best I can."

"Good." She shifted in his arms. "It's late. We should go back in." They turned to exit the park, walking in silence through the Ramble.

"I should go," he revealed as they arrived at her building.

She entered her code to open the front door. "Or you could stay."

He stepped inside behind her. "Not tonight. I need to talk to Foggy and Karen."

"Want me to come with you?"

"Nah. It should probably just be the three of us."

"Right. No room for D'Artagnan."

"Hey, he eventually makes it in the end."

"Yeah, but after they disband."

"Well, I didn't write the book," he lamented as they arrived at her doorstep.

She reached up and kissed him, her palm on his cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She closed the door, and Matt made his way back down to the street and continued down Central Park West until it turned into 8th Avenue before he turned onto West 52nd toward Foggy's place. He stopped at the corner shop to pick up a six pack before he buzzed them. Certainly that would break the ice.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Matt stood outside the building listening. He half-heartedly hoped that he'd hear somewhere he should be other than where he was about to go. He listened inside for Foggy and Karen as well. They were watching TV. Not surprising. Matt rolled his eyes and caught the front door with his cane as a resident exited. He inhaled, holding it open in his hands for a few seconds before he sighed and passed through.

Foggy didn't love the prospect of a multi-level walk-up in the event of an electrical or elevator failure, such as when a giant alien robot tore through the city, so he'd chosen this place accordingly. Matt trudged up two flights of stairs, still not excited with the prospect of a fight with Foggy, or Karen, or both. He slid into the third floor hall, closing the door silently behind him. Foggy's flat was on the other end of the hall, past the elevators in the middle. Matt soon arrived at the door and knocked.

No one else would come this late at night. Foggy didn't even look through the peephole before opening the door. Matt heard him sigh as he did so and held out the beer to his friend.

"Do I have to let you in if I take that?" inquired Foggy.

"That was sort of my plan," Matt revealed, chewing on his lip.

Foggy held the door. "Go on, then."

"Where's Karen?"

"Bathroom. We're in between episodes of Stranger Things."

"You'll have to tell me about it later."

"Yeah, it's kind of visual. You wouldn't really appreciate it."

Matt held up the beer. "Should I put these in the fridge?"

"Or we could drink them." He pulled three bottles from the box before Matt deposited it on the table as he took a seat.

Karen returned and Foggy held out a bottle to her before claiming the chair beside Matt's.

"I brought a peace offering," Matt explained.

She accepted it and leaned against the kitchen counter, throwing him more than a little side eye. "Well you needed to."

"I'm sorry about today, about a lot of days." He took a drink. "I'm sorry about a lot of things, actually."

"While that's nice to hear, but I'm not sure where we can go from here," Foggy admitted.

"I didn't come here about Nelson and Murdock, at least not in the way you're thinking." He took another swig, giving them all a minute to prepare for what was coming. "Liz is taking a job in Star City, and I'm going with her."

No one spoke. Matt waited. Foggy swallowed a couple of times, looked over at a stricken Karen and then back at Matt before he found his voice.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm not." Matt shrugged, ending in a shake of his head. "I don't know if it will work out, if we'll work out, but I don't know that I have another option."

"And you figured this out on you own?" Karen managed.

Matt ducked slightly. "I don't want to lose her."

"Good to know where we rate," she scoffed, taking another long pull off her bottle for emphasis.

"She's pregnant, Karen. That changes things. She knows that's a big part of the deal, but she's willing to give me another chance."

She stared over at him, giving a questioning shake of the head. "You're really going to give up all of this?"

"All of what, really? The three of us barely have a relationship – personal or professional, and the other stuff is the wedge between me and all of you." Matt sighed. "My dad wasn't perfect – far from it, but he tried. And at least I can provide for my family."

Foggy jumped on this. "Exactly. Jack let people beat on him to put food on the table. You don't have that excuse to stand on."

"I do understand that, Foggy," Matt replied rather sharply before reigning in that surge of emotion that came with the invocation of his father's memory. He took another deep breath before he continued. "It's something Liz and I have discussed at length and will continue to discuss.

"Part of leaving will mean that, at least to an extent, I'll give up that part of myself. I know this doesn't seem fair that I'd be willing to agree to this for her when I haven't for what I have here with the two of you, and I don't know that I can explain it to you because it's something I'm still struggling with. I'm not sure how to reconcile that part of who I am with who I want to be for her. I'm note even trying to pretend that I've figured it out yet, but she says she's willing to let me try."

Karen touched his arm. "I, or well, we want you to be happy. And honestly, I didn't know what that would look like exactly, but I do know you have to make this choice for you, not for her. Otherwise, you'll resent her for painting you into a corner. But if this is it, and if she's who and what makes you happy, then who are we to stand in your way?"

"I appreciate that, Karen. I want to go with her, and if I do, it's with the understanding that I won't be wearing the suit." That wasn't completely true, but these two didn't need to know that. Matt swallowed this hidden truth and continued without a missed beat. "And while I agree with you in that I can't do this for her, if I don't try, then I can't say I've really given our future a chance."

"Are you going to practice law?" Foggy asked after he'd considered Matt's previous thoughts.

Matt nodded. "Yeah. Liz has a lead on a position that sounds promising. We should hear some news in a few days." He decided again to omit any discussion of Oliver Queen and any potential extracurricular activities of the other man's.

Foggy reached over, placing his hand on Matt's shoulder. "I will miss you, man."

"I'll miss you too, Foggy. But you can finally take your place at Landman and Zack."

Foggy laughed. "I'm about two years too late for that, but Marci's been looking out for me, still, and Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz will do just fine. And with Karen on staff at The Bulletin, things with Nelson & Murdock feel final."

"Yeah, somehow neatly complete," agreed Karen.

"I guess that's my cue." Matt stood. "Plus it's late and I should go."

Foggy and Karen followed him to the door. "Keep us in the loop."

Matt nodded. "Thanks for letting me in tonight. I was a little concerned that you might not."

Karen reached up and kissed his cheek. "It crossed his mind. Mine, too."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "Thanks for hearing me out. Night guys." When he made it to the street, he called Liz. She answered breathlessly on the second ring.

"Matt? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. No, sorry. I forgot how late it was. I'm fine - just leaving Foggy's and I wanted to hear your voice."

She released a tremendous sigh on the other end of the phone. "Oh. Okay. I just didn't know if you…I thought you might need …"

Matt stopped her. "No. Everything's fine. I'm sorry your first thought when I call you in the middle of the night is that I might need help. It should just be that I missed you and I love you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

"I was just drifting off."

"I'll see you tomorrow – or later today I guess."

"Okay. And Matt? I love you too."

He stuck the phone back in his pocket, eyes closed with his head slightly bowed, he vowed to try to change that for her. At least for a while.

TBC


End file.
